


the best people I know are looking out for me

by HeraldAros



Series: The Hatake Riku 'verse [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, Naruto
Genre: Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crush at First Sight, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ninja Med School, Ninja Politics, No KH3 spoilers in fic, POV Outsider, Teenagers make out but it doesn't get very far (mind your comfort levels), Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldAros/pseuds/HeraldAros
Summary: Side-stories forBecoming Ninja, for scenes that wouldn't work from Riku's POV. Probably won't make much sense unless you read that first.[obligatoryit takes a village to raise a childreference]...8. Kakashi9. Ino10. Sora





	1. Gai+Kakashi on sudden nephew acquisition

**Author's Note:**

> So, okay, here it is: the sidestory collection I mentioned a while ago. Updates will come as I feel the urge to go beyond Riku's POV for scenes, and/or dig out and dust off old ficlets from 2010 that have other POVs. (Depending on what I decide to use, there are...potentially a lot. Some of it is really, really irrelevant/noncanonical for the story now, though, and it could all use editing.)
> 
> Title comes from Frank Turner's "Get Better," because otherwise, this was going to be Fic #146 titled "It Takes a Village."

Gai gets back to Konoha in a blaze of adrenaline and satisfaction. His students are ready. They might pass, they might not, but regardless, they will walk out of the chuunin exams stronger and wiser from the experience. 

Izumo and Kotetsu are at the gate, as usual, and Kotetsu seems to vibrate with energy as Gai approaches. On a hunch, he sends his team home, with instructions they don’t need to meet at the usual training ground tomorrow. He’ll tell them about the exams then, he thinks.

“Hatake brought home a kid,” Kotetsu says without preamble, while Gai goes through the usual entry paperwork. (He could leave it for later—most jounin-instructors file it with their mission reports—but Gai is steadfast in completing his assignments _properly_. If that means he delays his rest by another half-hour, then clearly that just makes the duty double as an endurance exercise!)

Izumo elbows his partner, but half-heartedly, probably less for bad manners than for secrecy’s sake. They _are_ right at the gate, after all, just before the Chuunin Exams. It would be unsurprising for other villages to send spies, and some of those spies might even now be staking out the gate, waiting to see who came back and who left.

They all take a moment to scan the area, but no secret observers are forthcoming. Gai lowers his voice anyway when he asks, “Kakashi adopted a child?”

That sounds…very unlike his rival. A glorious development, certainly! But incredibly out of character. Besides, Gai loves Kakashi, but the man is _not_ equipped, materially or emotionally, to be solely responsible for much more than a houseplant, and what’s more, Gai knows that _Kakashi_ knows this about himself. It seems very unlikely that Kakashi would do this thing Kotetsu is accusing him of, and Gai frowns disapprovingly at the man.

Izumo sighs and takes over the explanation, in a similarly quiet voice. “Not just any kid: his nephew. Did you know Kakashi had a brother?”

Gai did, of course, the way he knows Kakashi had a mother (who died when he was a very young child) and a father (who died when he was less young, but still a child), the way he knows Kakashi technically owns an estate that he has kept in the bare minimum repair required to not be censured by the Hokage, the way he knows Kakashi could rent a much more spacious, better-placed apartment but does not because he wouldn’t know what to do with all the space. Gai has learned these facts over the years, each a hard-won victory over Kakashi’s habitual doubt, distrust, and misdirections.

The two young men look flabbergasted at his, “Yes,” which is another kind of victory. 

“Well,” Kotetsu says, and at Izumo’s scowl, he too lowers his voice, “ _apparently_ the man had a kid, who got into some sort of trouble at home. The Hokage’s keeping a lid on _that_ , but everyone knows that the kid’s here and the story is, he’s a nephew.”

“He’s thirteen,” Izumo says with a sigh that tells Gai this is not the first time he’s tread this ground. “Literally _half Hatake’s age_.”

“Well…” Kotetsu, Gai thinks, is arguing for the sake of arguing; even those who don’t know Kakashi well would know that, at thirteen, Kakashi was simply _not capable_ of having fathered a child. (At thirteen, Kakashi was mourning the death of Obito; at thirteen, Kakashi was on the cusp of the disaster of a mission in Mist. It is simply not possible that, at thirteen, Kakashi _could_ have created a child, never mind that Kakashi would never place responsibility for his own actions on someone else.)

Sho was five years older, if Gai remembers correctly. (He might not; by the time Gai really knew Kakashi, Sho was long gone.) That is a much more plausible time-frame.

“And Kakashi has taken custody of his nephew?” Gai asks, still quiet, considering this development. It sounds unfortunate for everyone involved. He wonders at the necessity it implies. Kakashi has few illusions about himself, now; he would not do a thing he was so totally unsuited for unless there were no better options.

Izumo and Kotetsu agree that the two came in together, but naturally, the chuunin haven’t seen them since. Gai thanks them, hands over the completed paperwork, and wishes them a wonderful day with his most sincere smile.

Then he goes to track down his rival. He finds Kakashi waiting for him, not in Kakashi’s own apartment (where Gai looked first), but in _Gai’s_ apartment.

“Yo,” is all Kakashi says, sprawled out on Gai’s couch with one of his books open. He doesn’t say, _news travels quickly_ , or, _I’ve been waiting for you_ , or, _Gai-sensei, please help me fix this mess I’m in_. He might mean any one or all of those, though; his cool facade is as inscrutable as always.

Before speaking to Izumo and Kotetsu, Gai planned on completing his evening exercises, eating a modest meal, and going to bed early, the better to rise early and tackle a new day. Gai releases this plan into the ether: if he is lucky, he might scrape enough hours of sleep to convince his students he slept well.

Food can be made while he speaks to Kakashi, though, and so, after greeting his rival, he relocates himself to the kitchen. Kakashi, catlike, waits for several minutes before slipping in and sitting down, elbows on the table, book in one hand and face resting on the other.

“Tell me about your nephew,” Gai says, as he prepares ingredients. Curry, he thinks, and pulls out a pot; Kakashi likes it spicier than most, and the heat will keep them awake and quick-witted.

Kakashi, in bored tones, paints a picture of a young man: soft, civilian-raised, kind, eager. Repentant for mistakes he has committed that others do not judge as harshly. Bright and baffling, capable of processing information at a stunning rate but incapable of understanding a ninja’s perspective on simple matters. Lonely. Disconnected from the village.

Kakashi’s voice gains an edge of steel when he relates how his nephew cleaned Naruto’s apartment. Gai puzzles at this for long enough that Kakashi adds: “I didn’t think Naruto was the type to take advantage of someone else’s situation. It’s handled now, but if I’d known…”

Gai reminds himself that Kakashi, for all his brilliance and accomplishments, is rather linear when it comes to subjects like teamwork and trust. He also reminds himself that Kakashi has never had a team before, and the last time the man worked with twelve-year-olds was when he _was_ one, and Kakashi didn’t understand them then.

“I’m sure Naruto-san did not intend to take advantage of your nephew.”

“No.” At least Kakashi has realized that on his own. “But he was going to do it unintentionally, until I took care of that. Naruto’s better than that, anyway.”

By all accounts, Naruto is either a monster in waiting or a normal, if neglected and overly-cheerful, child. Kakashi loved Minato-sama and cared deeply for Uzumaki, and Gai can hear the echo of that love and care in his voice even as he speaks of their son. Gai can also hear the satisfaction in Kakashi’s voice.

As he sautés the meat and vegetables, Gai decides he does not need to immediately handle the tricky situation of “was this child, who has very little himself, _really_ going to take advantage of someone relying on him? Did you _need_ to step in and deal with that, Kakashi?” Kakashi will be defensive for that conversation, no doubt, and Gai would like to marshal his resources—including a greater knowledge of the other parties—before tackling that one.

Instead, he says, “The Chuunin Exams are nearly here.”

“I’m entering my team.” Defensiveness, defiance. Kakashi’s team is certainly not ready, but Kakashi plans to put them in anyway. It is one school of thought.

Not Gai’s, but also not Gai’s to criticize. He adds water to the pan. “And what will your nephew do, during the exams?”

Kakashi frowns. Gai lets him stew on that while he adds the curry roux to the pot. He has just pulled out the rice and plates when Kakashi says, “I put in a mission for one of the Academy teachers to catch him up academically. I can put in another, for taijutsu training.”

Gai can hear the reluctance in Kakashi’s voice and understands it: hard enough to ask someone else to teach the people closest to you (what if they teach everything _wrong_? What if they are competent, but not competent enough? These thoughts generally do not plague Gai, but then, Kakashi’s paranoia usually does not plague Gai; he does not need to experience the feelings himself to know they are there, and where they stem from), but for physical training, even a competent teacher is not always enough. Students make mistakes, sometimes far-reaching ones.

What if Kakashi is training his team, and whoever he hires to train his nephew isn’t skilled enough to prevent a disaster? The boy could be injured, possibly crippled; even avoiding those dire circumstances, the boy might be _mis-taught_ , and in their line of work, that, too, can be fatal.

There are not many jounin that Gai would trust with such a responsibility, and he is far more knowledgeable about these matters than Kakashi, for whom many things came easy. Kakashi has no easy way to look at his peers and judge them, not as threats or assets, but as potential teachers of the skills they possess.

Gai will be busy with his own team, of course, but as he sets the plates on the table, he says, “Once the exams have started, I can ask Hokage-sama for a list of the jounin not on active duty, and make some recommendations.”

Kakashi’s gratitude is as clear and overwhelming as it is silent. Instead of vocalizing his thanks, Kakashi says, “If all my kids wash out, it won’t be an issue.”

Some teams do not make it very far at all. Gai finds it spectacularly unlikely that Kakashi’s team will be one of them. He says this with his raised eyebrows, and by moving a spoonful of curry rice from his plate into his mouth very deliberately.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and begins on his own curry rice. After several moments, he says, provokingly, “Of course, if _your_ kids wash out, I could hire _you_.”

Gai swallows, and levels a glower at Kakashi. “I would not take your money.”

His adorable students will not all fail, so it won’t be an issue, but _even if they did_ , he is insulted that Kakashi would even suggest having to hire Gai.

Kakashi smiles, and turns his attention back to his curry rice.

Gai loves his rival, but he is tempted to adopt the nephew himself, for the boy’s own good.


	2. Hiruzen Sarutobi's Least Favorite Piece of Paperwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Chapter 7 of Becoming Ninja.

By mid-morning, Hiruzen has snuck in a dozen little breaks to reread Jiraiya’s latest novel. It’s his third read, and the prose is familiar enough now that his mind no longer catalogues all the little hints, clues, and intel buried within the heaving bosoms, passionate declarations, and otherwise lurid prose. He’s found that it takes closer to five or even six reads before he can truly relax and appreciate Jiraiya’s writing, but that’s no reason to rush the experience. He takes his time and, with only his ANBU the wiser, gets through a third of the book and a sizable stack of forms, reports, and requests.

That all ends, however, when a genin rushes into his office. Nishimori Mariko graduated just over a year ago, took the Chuunin Exam in Hidden Rock, and was the only one out of her team to make it to the Finals, where she’d spectacularly failed to land even a single blow against a Mist nin approximately two years her junior. Since then, she’s done mostly long-term assignments in various departments, ostensibly to find a focus and really because she’s friendly and charming enough at first to keep getting hired into new positions, but abrasive enough once she’s settled in that no department wants her for very long.

Right now, her post is with the Academy, and from the harried look on her face and the bags under her eyes as the door opens, Hiruzen doubts she’ll be there much longer. He hides a sigh and makes a note to check her file later; maybe there’s a more successful path he can steer her toward.

She bows, crisply polite, as soon as she’s through the door. Her back is straight, her face passably neutral as she rises. When she speaks, her voice is neither wavering nor breathy. “Iruka-sensei sent me with this, Hokage-sama. He says, he would appreciate if you considered it at your earliest convenience.”

She holds out a sealed scroll, and at Hiruzen’s gesture, steps forward to place it on his desk. No trepidation, not even sneaking a peek around his office, but by the determined set to her jaw, that’s no easy feat.

Hiruzen smiles. “Thank you for delivering it, then. Return to Iruka-sensei,” her eyes widen at his customary show of respect for one of Konoha’s teachers, “and tell him that I will read it immediately.”

Unlike most jounin and a good many chuunin, Iruka has never bothered to send others, particularly genin, on his errands. If he’s sending Nishimori now, there must be a reason: speed, or timing, or urgency of information. Hiruzen is not in the habit of needlessly second-guessing his subordinates. His job is hard enough, these days, without borrowing all of _that_ trouble.

Nishimori leaves swiftly, again without undue prying, and Hiruzen resolves to leave a commendation in her file. With any luck, it will help her get to a position where she can truly thrive. Then he turns his attention to the matter of the scroll.

The scroll is his-eyes-only: fingerprint seal, not blood, which would be too invasive for a chuunin’s missive to warrant. (There have been a few that Hiruzen has instructed Iruka to seal with that level of care, but all of them were about Naruto. Even Sasuke and the other clan children that pass through Iruka’s class do not, technically, merit that much.) Hiruzen carefully unfurls the scroll, and feels his eyebrows raise without his conscious thought.

Form 3046 is an unusual, lengthy form. In all his years as Hokage, Hiruzen has only read through, at most, two dozen submissions. It is always filed directly to him; preventing its submission to him is a major offense, with a consequence of one year in jail, six months’ mandatory sessions with T&I, and stripping of rank down to genin. Hiruzen has only had to administer the consequence once.

He has seen this form with this particular handwriting on three earlier occasions.

Form 3046 can be filled out and submitted by any ninja of Konoha; it pertains specifically to Academy students, however, so the most common submitters are teachers. Nevertheless, it’s rare to have a follow-up submission, or even a submission from the same person about different students; to have received now _four_ from one individual is…striking.

Hiruzen frowns even before he begins reading. The first submission had been close to six years ago, now; the last, a little over five months. The first three had been about Naruto, but _this_ one can’t be.

Form 3046 is more commonly known as the Dereliction of Duty to Minors Form. It is only submitted when an adult ninja believes that a prospective genin, regardless of age, has been mistreated by their guardians to an extent that constitutes potential infringement of the Hokage’s rights.

In other words: the form indicates that a parent or guardian is on the verge of ruining an Academy student, through direct abuse or mistreatment, through neglect of any kind, or through bad role-modeling. Genin are wards of the state, but Academy students are still considered dependents of their parents or guardians. Form 3046 exists when the latter circumstance will, potentially, lead to a loss of a genin; the resolution of Form 3046 is either a Null finding, which _always_ leaves open the possibility of a follow-up examination, or a Resolution. Most Resolutions result in the child being removed from the home.

Iruka filed two 3046s before Naruto was removed from his original foster home, and then the final 3046 that resulted in Naruto being offered independent (subsidized) housing in a quiet, out-of-the-way shinobi apartment building. Iruka has never been cavalier with criticism, but he has made his displeasure known when he felt his concerns were dismissed out of hand. If Hiruzen attempts to bury this one, if he doesn’t at least address Iruka’s concerns, the man is likely to respond even less well than he had the first time Hiruzen returned a Null finding.

Still, Iruka’s put him in a bad position. Hiruzen sighs as he reads through the form carefully.

Form 3046 requires that the submitter fill out all relevant information in the fullest possible extent. Under Name, Iruka has written not only はたけリク, but also, with obviously painstaking care, Hatake Riku. For Family, Iruka has listed Hatake Sho, Hatake Kakashi, and Mother; Hiruzen has one of his ANBU bring him Riku’s official file, along with Kakashi’s report from retrieving the boy. Riku’s mother’s name is listed as Keiko, but also as classified to ANBU and above.

It would be too easy, to be able to dismiss this form on such a simple technicality. Lacking relevant information is an automatic Null finding, but intelligence classified above Iruka’s rank cannot, legally, be held against him; if he wanted, Iruka could appeal the decision, and Hiruzen strongly suspects he would.

Riku’s Known Associates include Uzumaki Naruto and Maito Gai, which Hiruzen knew about; Haruno Sakura, who was an easy guess; Yamanaka Ino, a logical extension from Sakura; and Hyuuga Hanabi, who is actually somewhat shocking. Hiruzen wastes a minute contemplating how Riku could have even _met_ Hanabi before turning his attention back to the form.

Most of the space is clearly delineated sections detailing the precise levels and qualities of the alleged dereliction. Hiruzen has made it a personal policy, regardless of the finding, to burn these documents; even when they are accurate (and Iruka’s are always painfully accurate), there’s something wretched about the faults laid bare on the scroll.

On this one, Iruka has indicated Emotional Abuse—Neglect, Financial Abuse—Neglect, and Educational Abuse—Neglect. He has _not_ , thankfully, indicated Physical, Sexual, Psychological, or Verbal Abuse. He has very carefully _only_ selected Neglect among the options presented.

Damningly, Hiruzen believes the accusations without needing to read the details. Kakashi is peculiar, and preoccupied with his genin team. By all rights, he should have immediately fostered Riku with one of the other clans—any of them would take him.

Well, no. Between the two of them, Hiruzen and Asuma would have needed to turn Kakashi down, if he’d asked to foster Riku with the Sarutobi clan. Tsunade, if she could even be tracked down, would probably laugh in Kakashi’s face, last of the Senju or no. That still leaves a huge swath of families to choose from, however.

Hiruzen let him keep the boy, let him try to juggle sole custody of a nephew and leading a genin team. This falls on Hiruzen’s shoulders, and the existence of this form is proof of that. This is Iruka, gently and steadfastly, calling him to task for his failings.

Iruka lays out the details in crisp, dispassionate prose: Riku has been living with Naruto, which Hiruzen approved when Kakashi first presented the idea; Riku has been given a stipend by Kakashi, which is old-fashioned but likely practical, given Kakashi’s schedule; Riku has been grocery-shopping for both himself and Naruto, on the stipend given to him by Kakashi, which is…unfortunate, but not illegal. Riku does not know how to read.

Hiruzen rereads that one, under Educational Abuse. Riku has, apparently, been teaching _himself_ how to read. Riku has neglected to share this information with his legal guardian (a footnote leads back to Emotional Abuse). Due to his legal guardian’s ignorance, Riku has been placed in what Iruka describes as a _hostile living and learning environment_ (edging out of dispassionate there), where he _faces unwarranted challenges while lacking the resources, both physical and otherwise, to meet them_.

Under Financial Abuse, Iruka has tallied Kakashi’s expenditures on Riku, citing testimony from the boy; it’s worse than Hiruzen suspected. Riku’s been living off of an Academy student’s monthly stipend, but that stipend assumes a preexisting circumstance that, as Iruka describes, does not exist for Riku. (The stipend is more spending money than an actual budget; students like Naruto and Sasuke, who live independently, have to attend monthly budgeting seminars and, in turn, receive almost double what Kakashi gave Riku; even backing out the lack of rent, _food and clothing_ seems to account for almost all of the boy’s expenditures.) More than that, Kakashi has access not only to his own sizeable accounts but also the Hatake accounts, which have been untouched and accumulating money since Sakumo’s death.

Kakashi’s actions aren’t illegal, just…very unfortunate. They would look _incredibly bad_ in front of his peers, let alone a Council of Clans. In fact, were Iruka a member of a clan and not a teacher, instead of a Dereliction of Duty Form, Hiruzen might be holding a Suit for Immediate Adoption. He would be even harder-pressed to dismiss one of _those_.

There’s a section that asks the submitter to outline what a potential response might look like, to address the alleged problems. Iruka proposes: _immediate removal of custody, audit by a third party, granting of access to family/clan resources, and consideration of fostership to established clan_. He has also made a note that Riku is expected to take and pass the genin test later that day, pending an allowance for his written test to be taken orally.

Hiruzen lifts Form 3046 to find _that_ piece of paperwork underneath.

The last part of Form 3046 asks the submitter to detail who, precisely, failed to complete their duty; Hiruzen is surprised to find that Iruka has primarily listed Hatake Sho, as the father, with Hatake Kakashi listed only secondarily, as a failsafe that did not work. There is no mention of Maito Gai, which is an unexpected kindness: Gai _must_ be aware of the situation, at least in broad strokes. Theoretically, Gai should have acted to fix the problems, or else filed this form himself. Iruka has chosen not to press that point, which is…more than Hiruzen deserves, really.

This is going to be difficult enough to deal with, just with _Kakashi_. Kakashi _and Gai_? At the same time? _Gods forbid_.

Hiruzen sighs, sets the form down. He signs off on the allowance for an oral exam, and sends it back to Iruka with one of his ANBU. He hunts down Nishimori’s file personally and adds in the commendation for discretion and professionalism, scanning through her previous postings so he can mull over where to assign her next as he has time. There’s already a commendation from Iruka, along with several demerits from other Academy faculty. (Iruka has a well-earned reputation for being able to work with nearly _anyone_ , for bringing out the best in his students and his colleagues. He rarely logs complaints, which makes the few he does submit carry even more weight. Such as today’s Form 3046.)

First things first: he’ll observe the genin test this afternoon. If Riku passes, Hiruzen will have more options. Removing Kakashi’s ward from the man’s care while the boy is still just a student is a messy, unavoidably-public proposition; a technically-legally-adult genin leaving his guardian’s care, on the other hand, is common enough to be unworthy of comment. Kakashi’s record will reflect Hiruzen’s decision, but as a former ANBU Commander, Kakashi’s record is highly classified.

Hiruzen returns to his paperwork, resigned to no more little breaks for reading Jiraiya's latest masterpiece. The duties of the Hokage are numerous, tiresome, unglamorous, and, occasionally, thoroughly depressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on how I view, well, how Konoha functions: it's a bureaucracy topped with, essentially, an absolute monarch who is voted in and serves for life. If Sarutobi wanted to get rid of all the paperwork, he could. (But he's old enough to realize that he does not want to make all the decisions himself, and so: paperwork.)


	3. Konoha's Littlest Stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuuga Hanabi's world works a certain way, right up until it doesn't anymore. Also contains: some Troubling Unchildlike Behavior, Hinata's fight with Sasuke, and cameos of a bunch of characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized 80% of the way through this ficlet that I was mostly basing my Hanabi characterization off of fanon, and went back to try to find what canon episodes she's in. And it turns out, there's two really great Hanabi episodes! From after I stopped regularly paying attention to Naruto! orz
> 
> So I am _mostly_ happy with how this slots into canon, now, since I went back through and cleaned Hanabi's characterization up. Also! We finally get close to passing the Bechdel test!

Hyuuga Hanabi is…confused.

She’s only in Iruka-sensei’s class part time. She understands her father’s reasoning—she needs to learn to interact with peers, and her father is a busy man. He can’t devote all his time to her education. There are others in the clan who help, of course, but the Academy teachers are specifically trained to teach.

So Hanabi spends her mornings at the Academy and her afternoons in the compound. She learns basics with her peers and the Gentle Fist techniques with her father. And she watches.

Iruka-sensei starts taking time off, which irks her. Her education ought to be his priority, and here he is, subtracting an hour each day. Sure, he arranges for either practice time in the yard (it’s always useful to see how she measures up against non-Hyuugas her age) or other, temporary instructors, but _still_.

Then the Chuunin Exams roll around, and both Hinata-neesan and Neji-niisan are competing. (”What’s the point?” she asks Natsu, when she learns how dangerous such a thing is. Why would Hinata enter a competition that might kill her?) The compound is alight with tension. It only gets worse when the news breaks that Neji, darling of the Branch family, lost to village pariah Uzumaki Naruto, while Hinata acquitted herself well against a foreign ninja.

Hanabi feels perfectly reasonable pride in her sister. She even congratulates Hinata. Hinata smiles back at her and says thank you. It’s…nice. Simple, the way things haven’t been between them in years.

What isn’t simple is Iruka-sensei’s pet project, Hatake Riku. The day Iruka-sensei is held up doing something with the Chuunin Exams, Hatake stays in the room and, despite his obvious misgivings, does his best to occupy the mob of students. Hanabi isn’t sure what Neji-niisan would do in that situation, but she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t offer to answer any questions they may have. She knows her sister would be too terrified to do something like that.

The depth of ignorance that he displays is breathtaking. She can’t imagine ever being self-confident enough to admit to children younger than her that she doesn’t know basic things like _falling_ and _flipping_. Nevertheless, Hatake not only admits to not knowing, but takes pointers from the students. He takes direction shockingly well for someone so unskilled.

And his uncle, lounging in the window, lets him. Hanabi’s quite sure most of her classmates haven’t noticed the jounin, but she did. When Iruka returns and the jounin critiques their performance, Hanabi has a moment of shame, quickly suppressed. She is the Hyuuga successor and she is destined for more than this jounin’s criticism.

It’s quickly supplanted by confusion, however, when Hatake argues with his uncle on the students’ behalf. When Hatake makes a point that _Iruka-sensei_ agrees with, the smarter students in class relax a bit. They could sense the incoming threat of homework, and Hatake’s quick thinking spared them.

Still. How does someone who learns so quickly get to thirteen years of age without knowing basic skills? Hanabi resolves to find out.

The simplest way, of course, is to follow him around and observe him. Hanabi has seen her sister do this to Uzumaki Naruto, who has also puzzled Hanabi in the past. Not enough to repeat her sister’s actions, of course, but when the opportunity presents itself, Hanabi knows what to do. Hatake isn’t much of a ninja, anyway. He’s easy to track and gives no indication of knowing she’s there.

He lives with Uzumaki, which is interesting. (Who would live with a loser and a failure, except for another failure? And does Hinata know that? Would she appreciate being told? Hanabi decides that, if Uzumaki comes up in conversation, she’ll mention it, but otherwise, she doesn’t want to distract her sister from her training.) He spars with Uzumaki and loses, which Hanabi predicted based only on the fact that Uzumaki beat Neji. He learns Uzumaki’s adaptation of the _henge_ jutsu in a single afternoon, practicing it multiple times to cement it in his memory.

When Hanabi returns home, her father is disappointed in her tardiness. He assumes that, in her excitement about the Chuunin Exams, she failed to come home on time for her lessons. She does not correct this assumption.

Her training runs long, and he leaves her in the early evening to continue on her own. (This is a test. If she takes the opportunity to end her training early, she fails. She practices longer and harder than she would normally, because Hanabi does not fail tests. She has not failed a test since she saw her sister’s crumpled form on the ground in front of her and realized with a heavy heart that destiny is not at all about what you _want_ from life.)

The next morning, she wakes up earlier than usual despite her late night to practice Uzumaki’s jutsu on her own before her Academy lessons start. She locates a suitably empty training ground far enough away from the Hyuuga compound to not be observed and tries to replicate the jutsu, keeping in mind everything Uzumaki told Hatake about it.

She cannot.

It takes her three days to realize a mistake that Hatake corrected within minutes: she must hold in her head every detail pertinent to the transformation. (Naturally, she tries to transform into Hinata, whose body she has tested herself against many times.) A normal transformation does not require such precise concentration, such minute attention to detail.

A normal transformation can be caught by civilians, if the ninja moves in a way unnatural to their body. With Uzumaki’s jutsu, that will never be a problem, because when Hanabi finally masters it, she realizes that she has _put_ _on_ her sister’s body. She moves like Hinata because she suddenly has Hinata’s dimensions and proportions, and because she has pictured Hinata on such a deep level, her movements are smooth and, at least to her eye, accurate.

She also wipes out all her chakra reserves within half an hour. Her father is most displeased. She claims that she was practicing water-walking: she observed several genin doing it months ago and never mentioned it to anyone, but now she pretends that she saw it more recently. That mollifies her father somewhat, although he does ask her to demonstrate her proficiency the next day.

Of course, she passes this test as well. (She would never offer up an explanation she wasn’t prepared to follow through on.) She considers what it means, Hatake’s speed at picking up the jutsu. She considers his speed in the classroom as well.

Hatake might, like her cousin, be a prodigy. One raised outside the village. One just now learning what his peers had years to learn—and picking it up in a matter of days. One who no one else has recognized, _because_ he is only learning what his peers already know. Can someone’s destiny be so subtle that no one else picks up on it?

She considers the fact that Uzumaki beat her cousin, and now Hatake is living with him. Maybe someone else has recognized Hatake’s talent, but she can’t be sure.

Previously, she left the Academy at the very beginning of lunch, but on this day, she stays back. Iruka-sensei notices immediately, and, with a perception that she appreciates in her teacher, waits for her to come to him.

“Who’s training Hatake?”

“I’m sorry?” She dislikes repeating herself, but she does, and Iruka-sensei looks no less confused. “Ah. I believe that would be his uncle.”

Hanabi raises one eyebrow. “His uncle is training Uchiha and Uzumaki.” Maybe a teacher whose class numbers about twenty wouldn’t consider it, but Hanabi knows from her own experience that a dedicated teacher requires a single pupil; this is why her father never trained her when Hinata was the successor, and now never trains Hinata. Hanabi knows for a fact that their father is _not_ helping Hinata train for the Chuunin Exams. She doubts that even someone as renowned as Copycat-nin Kakashi would take on both Chuunin Exam training for two students _and_ the kind of training his nephew probably needs to catch up.

She articulates all of this, trying her best not to give the impression that she thinks less of Jounin Hatake. Iruka-sensei’s face twitches a bit, and Hanabi feels a wash of shame at her failure.

“Hm. That’s a good point. I’m sure Jounin Hatake has considered it and will make the best decision for all of his students.” Iruka-sensei says this very blandly, and if Hanabi did not interact with adults more than her peers, she might buy it. However, she _does_ interact with adults often, and she is a Hyuuga: she can read the tightness in Iruka-sensei’s mouth, the sudden, well-hidden stiffness in his spine.

Iruka-sensei never has a bad word to say about _anyone_ , not even Uzumaki. But Hanabi has the sudden impression that he does not like Hatake’s uncle very much at all. (He still does not have a bad word to say, which is a skill that she ought to work on mastering. She has never met anyone who disliked Iruka-sensei. Even the laziest, worst students sing his praises. Her destiny is to lead and protect the Hyuuga, and it would be to everyone’s benefit if she learns quickly how to be a good leader. Maybe then the Main family won’t have to use the absolute fear of death against the Branch families.)

Hanabi is a Hyuuga, and Hyuuga excel at espionage. She continues to observe. She is thwarted soon after, though, by the intrusion of Neji-niisan’s teacher into Hatake’s life; she cannot hope to watch Hatake without catching the jounin’s notice, and so she retreats.

Her sister is training for the Chuunin Exam finals, and in her free time, Hanabi turns her observation on Hinata.

Hinata trains in the compound. Sometimes, Kurenai-sensei is there. Kurenai-sensei usually notices Hanabi but says nothing about her presence. Kurenai-sensei teaches Hinata several jutsu, including how to blast water out of her mouth and how to create a jet of water from her hand. (Hanabi tries to duplicate these jutsu on her own. She fails.)

Sometimes, Neji is there. Sometimes, when Neji shows up during Hinata’s training, the two of them leave the compound.

When they leave, Neji-niisan trains her sister in Gentle Fist techniques that should belong only to the Main family. Hinata never questions Neji’s skills and does not mention them to their father; Hanabi waits and waits, but Hinata seems content to let their cousin simply train her.

Hanabi has never thought her sister was stupid (weak, sometimes; too kind; not strong enough to lead the family—never stupid), and so she follows Hinata’s lead.

“Do you think you can win?” she asks Hinata one afternoon, after peeking intermittently on her sister training, alone, for hours. It is a reversal. It tastes like dust in Hanabi’s mouth.

Hinata flushes and looks down. “I. I’m not sure.” Then determination seizes her: she straightens, and her expression is serious. “I will do my best, though. I _have_ to. I promised, and I will not go back on my word.”

Hanabi nods. This is something she will always respect about her sister: Hinata does not have illusions about her own abilities, but she also does not make excuses to justify giving up. Surrounded as Hanabi is by immature schoolchildren in the morning and arrogant clansmen in the afternoons, Hinata’s attitude is refreshing.

She does not mention that it is her sister’s destiny to fail, to be too soft at the wrong moments. That would be cruel.

///

Hanabi sits next to her father during the matches. The Sand-nin, Gaara, is terrifying. He has too much chakra. He has too much hatred. Hanabi wonders why any village would keep a ninja like that; surely even the Kazekage can’t think to _control_ him? When she whispers this question to her father, she is shut down with a quick word and a sharp look.

Hanabi pays close attention to Uzumaki’s fight with Inuzuka (her sister’s teammate, who she nonetheless knows little about), and finds herself disappointed. The match reveals nothing she did not already know.

Her sister’s match with Uchiha is the one that Hanabi most looked forward to, though, and she finds herself leaning forward to watch. Her family has excellent seats and can even hear the combatants.

“I will do my best to defeat you,” Hinata says, bowing politely, like this is an Academy sparring match and not a performance in front of dozens of strangers, including the daimyo and _two_ Kage.

Uchiha hesitates before returning the gesture. “I can’t waste my time with you,” he says, which is _rude_. Hanabi scowls at him.

Her father presses her back into her seat with a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Quiet, Hanabi,” he says.

She turns her scowl on him momentarily, before her eyes gravitate back to her sister.

Hinata and Uchiha trade blows. Both are primarily hand-to-hand fighters and it shows. Uchiha is quicker; Hinata, more solid. When she scores a glancing hit on his leg, he buckles briefly.

“I said,” Hinata breaks the silence, “that I will do my best to defeat you.”

That’s the moment, Hanabi decides, that he decides to take her sister seriously.

“You’ll _try_.”

The first jutsu Uchiha uses is a fireball about the size of Hanabi herself. He creates it and launches it at Hinata quickly—almost too quickly to dodge, even with all the training Hinata has put in. But Hinata doesn’t dodge.

Tiger seal, ox seal, tiger, rat. Water Release: Water Bullet Jutsu. Hinata does not give the name of the technique, but Hanabi recognizes it from the sessions she’s spied on. Hinata directs the torrent straight at the fireball, obliterating it into so much steam before the jet continues, aimed for Uchiha. Uchiha dodges.

“I have been training for this fight for a month,” Hinata informs him, cutting off the stream of water and raising her hands into a guard position. “I will not be defeated so easily.”

From where the competitors wait, Hanabi hears a loud whoop, followed by laughter and, “Hey, Sasuke! You’re gonna get your ass kicked by a _girl_.” Hanabi recognizes Uzumaki’s slightly-obnoxious voice.

This is, in turn, followed by loud moaning, as if someone else in the competitors’ area has addressed his offense.

Hinata seems to take heart from the words, though, while Uchiha sends a scowl in Uzumaki’s direction before redoubling his efforts to hit Hinata.

“I will prove myself to you,” she says, “and to Naruto-kun, and Neji, and my family!”

Hanabi feels her father stiffen next to her. Her Byakugan is still active: she can see her father’s face tighten before he makes an effort to smooth it into blankness.

“I’m here to beat the best, the strongest person in this exam,” Sasuke replies, launching another, smaller fireball. “That _isn_ _’t_ you.”

Hinata uses Water Release: Water Bowl to shoot a stream of water out of her hand to put out the new attack. Her Byakugan is activated, so even with the steam that sends up, she can see Uchiha. “The strongest person is someone who believes in others with all his heart. You can’t hope to beat him unless you too believe in yourself and those around you!”

From the competitors’ area: “Yeah! You tell him, Hinata!”

Uchiha throws a few more fireballs her way, dodging throughout the arena so that when she moves to disperse one, he can flank her and try to knock her out. Hinata’s blind spot is much smaller now, though, and what strikes she can’t block, she dodges.

As he attacks, Uchiha says, “You don’t know _anything_ about strength. It has nothing to do with what you believe. Believe in yourself all you like, but you’ll _still_ lose.”

Hanabi shifts uncomfortably, not sure whether Uchiha’s really directing this at Hinata, or Uzumaki, or himself.

A jet of water from her palm soaks Uchiha and leaves him, for one moment, vulnerable to a follow-up strike. Hinata unleashes Eight Trigrams Thirty-Two Palms on him.

Hanabi has only seen her sister successfully complete this move once, with Neji coaching her through it. It isn’t the standard Sixty-Four Palms, but as Hanabi watches with her own Byakugan activated, she sees that it’s working nonetheless.

As she strikes, she says, “Our strength _comes_ from our beliefs. If there is one thing I have learned, it is to never give up. _That_ is true strength, Sasuke. And _that_ is why I’ll win!”

Then Uchiha activates his Sharingan, and he _dodges_.

There are mutters among her family. Hinata pulls back, waiting, observing; Uchiha, with less than half his tenketsu closed, still looks worse for wear. He breathes heavily, right arm hanging at his side with the heaviness of a limb gone numb, left leg spasming and almost collapsing underneath him. He’s holding himself up more through willpower than physical strength.

He’s also glaring, bloody-eyed, at Hinata. It doesn’t have the rage or the killing intent of Gaara’s glare, but Hanabi finds herself wanting to leap into the ring and shield her sister from the look anyway. (Isn’t it her duty to protect the Hyuuga? And Hinata is still a Hyuuga. Doesn’t Hanabi have a responsibility to make this boy pay for looking at one of her own like that?)

“You aren’t the only one with a _dojutsu_ here,” he tells her, and Hanabi wonders. This is the first match of, potentially, three or four. From her studies with her father, while the Byakugan uses little chakra for mere activation, that is not the case with other _dojutsu_. She doubts Uchiha ever intended on using the Sharingan against her sister, and despite her father’s hand still on her shoulder, Hanabi is seized with righteous fury.

How _dare_ this upstart think he could challenge _her sister_ and not bring his best to the fight? Especially after her sister’s statements and her sister’s useless determination to prove herself!

She hopes Hinata _brutalizes_ him, even as she knows that her sister won’t, kind-hearted and gentle as Hinata is.

Uchiha shapes seals with his hand, his right side noticeably slower and less coordinated (he shouldn’t be able to move it _at all_ , but maybe Hinata couldn’t fully seal those tenketsu—or maybe he has some way of opening them back up, Hanabi thinks with a chill down her spine—no, it’s probably that her sister did something wrong), and in another cloud of steam, he’s no longer soaking wet. More hand seals, and his palm starts sparking.

Not with fire, though. His left palm crackles with electricity—lightning chakra. Hinata, from her liberal use of the water release jutsu, is somewhat damp herself.

When he and her sister clash again, they dodge the other’s blows. Neither can afford to take a hit: if Hinata connects, she will shut down another tenketsu, and Uchiha can’t lose any more of those; if Uchiha connects, Hinata will likely pass out from the electricity and lose the match instantly.

Hinata bends backward, letting Uchiha’s hand swipe through the air above her belly, before attempting a leg sweep that Uchiha leaps over. He lands on one foot, steady despite that, and with the other, kicks out at her midsection as she straightens. She rolls out of the way of the blow, now to Uchiha’s right with a palm strike aimed at his shoulder, only to have to roll again when he jerks his chakra-coated left hand over and into her space.

His blow carries him forward, overextended, and his palm hits the ground, which he instantly turns into a front flip. The lightning chakra discharges, harmless to either of them, leaving a small crater where he had been.

There’s more chakra in his hand than she thought, Hanabi realizes; her Byakugan tells her that there’s just enough to be visible, but that wouldn’t leave a _crater_ in the _ground_.

More muttering from her family, and Hanabi realizes that they’ve come to the same conclusion she has: Uchiha has found a way to mask his chakra output with the nature release. Lightning is hard to look at and difficult to evaluate, and he’s using those facts to disguise how powerful his strikes are.

Hinata won’t know until one connects whether it has just a thin layer of chakra or enough to pulverize her. Even if she could endure one hit, she won’t be able to take that chance.

They engage again; Hinata redirects Uchiha’s strikes, while Uchiha keeps her from connecting with his remaining tenketsu. _Both_ his palms have lightning now, and his Sharingan matches her Byakugan. They’re both using too much chakra for the first round, but the audience is appreciative: there are murmurs and cheers at each near-hit, at each successful dodge. Sasuke overextends a few more times, losing his chakra and leaving more craters for the next competitors to deal with.

From the competitors’ area: “C’mon Sasuke! You promised to fight me in the finals!”

Typical, Hanabi thinks with a sniff. The useless boy couldn’t be relied on to continue encouraging her sister against his own teammate.

But Hinata doesn’t look discouraged. If anything, she looks—radiant. Confident. “If I win, _I_ will fight Naruto-kun in the finals. We’ll show you where strength comes from!”

Uchiha is within range. Hinata shouldn’t have enough chakra to use Eight Trigrams again, even an abbreviated version, but she tries.

She fails, but not because her chakra gives out. She loses to the ability of Uchiha’s Sharingan; he anticipates her blows and moves out of the way of her strikes. He lets her exhaust her chakra trying to hit him, and then, when she’s finished, he sucker-punches her and lets her collapse. There’s no chakra in the blow, just raw physical power.

Hinata falls to her knees. Hanabi thinks, viciously, that if her sister had another month, she would be strong enough to wipe the floor with Uchiha. Then she corrects herself: Hinata is a failure and would always have lost the match. The words are like ash in her mind.

The proctor starts to call the match for Uchiha, and then Hinata pushes herself onto her feet.

“I have told you two times,” she says, shakily, legs trembling with the effort of holding herself up, “that I will do my best to defeat you. I will _make_ you believe that. I cannot do less. I gave my word, and I will not go back on it!”

She lunges at Uchiha, and he’s caught off guard enough that her hand almost connects with his face. Hinata is fast, wild with the understanding that her time is limited. If she doesn’t win soon, she won’t win at all, and everyone knows it.

Uchiha blocks. Hinata’s Byakugan is gone, dispersed with most of her chakra, and even if she had enough in her to shut his tenketsu, she doesn’t have the control necessary to make it stick. When Hinata’s fist hits his right arm, though, he flinches, arm flopping uselessly. This time, it stays like that, and Uchiha is forced to rely only on his left hand and his feet.

Hanabi’s eyes widen. Hinata can’t have closed the tenketsu with chakra. She must have done it with physical pressure alone.

One roundhouse kick puts Hinata back on the ground. It takes longer for her to pull herself up, but this time, the proctor doesn’t intervene. Uchiha, showing quality for the first time in the match, waits for her to get up.

“You’re going to lose,” he tells her flatly as she shudders, limbs uncoordinated and unsteady. “You might as well bow out now.”

“I haven’t lost until I have given up,” Hinata says, forcing her arms and legs into compliance. She assumes a standard guard position. “As many times as it takes, I will get up.”

Uchiha sends her tumbling to the ground with a leg sweep. She gets up. He knocks her down with a simple tackle. She gets up. He pushes her over and she falls on her butt. She gets up.

The crowd has turned against her now; this is no longer a demonstration of skill, but something sad, pitiful. Hanabi’s father has his eyes closed, his shoulders slumped. Hanabi turns her attention to the crowd and tries, with her Byakugan, to locate Neji.

When she finds him, sitting next to his teammate Rock Lee, the expression on his face is proud.

She’s never seen Neji-niisan look _proud_ before, could never have imagined him directing such a look at a member of the Main family. She has no other word for it, though: he is smiling, and there is a softness to his face that she thinks he would not want anyone to see.

In the arena, Uchiha sighs. “Alright, you’ve proven your point. You and that idiot up there.” A squawk from the competitors’ area that he ignores. “I’m not here to kick defenseless morons around until they’re dead.”

Hinata pauses. There’s a faint tremor in her body that Hanabi only sees because of her Byakugan. Uchiha’s Sharingan is long gone. “Are you conceding the match?”

There’s an immediate murmur through the stands, along with some laughter. Hanabi thinks that, if Uchiha says _yes_ , he will immediately ascend into legend.

Legend isn’t good enough for a boy like Uchiha Sasuke. He must _win_. “No. Will you?”

Hanabi watches Hinata consider. She thinks that, if Uchiha had offered any sooner, her sister would only leave the arena on a stretcher. But now, there’s something like respect on Uchiha’s face, and his stance is a proper one, taking her seriously even now, when she’s shaking and exhausted and beaten. His right arm still hangs, numb and heavy and unusable.

Hinata bows, the way Iruka-sensei teaches you should when you lose. “Thank you for the match.”

And Uchiha, to his credit, returns it, just like Iruka-sensei says you should when you win. “It was my honor to fight you.” Hanabi doesn’t think he _means_ it, but he _says_ it, and that matters. He also offers Hinata a hand, which she takes, and helps her out of the arena, presumably to wherever the medic-nins are.

It occurs to Hanabi that Hinata and Sasuke were in the same Academy class— _Iruka-sensei_ _’s_ Academy class. This might not be the first time they’ve fought and exchanged those words. It is a testament to Iruka-sensei’s teaching that someone as obviously full of himself as Uchiha Sasuke would bend enough to recognize his opponent like he just has.

Her father doesn’t acknowledge any of this. Instead, with that same heavy grip, he pulls her off the bench and tugs her along out of the stadium.

Hanabi is not an immature child, like many of her classmates. She doesn’t whine or complain. She waits until they are back in the compound before she asks, “Why did we leave?”

She never gets her answer, because that’s when the alarm goes out that Konoha is under attack. Her father presses her into Natsu’s arms and leaves her to join the rest of Konoha’s shinobi in defending the village.

Natsu takes Hanabi and hides her with the Branch children in the tunnels beneath the Hyuuga compound. None of them were allowed to come to the Chuunin Exams. Down here, they can’t even hear the conflict.

Some of the children cry. Some of the criers are older than Hanabi. It is her destiny to take care of the Hyuuga, but because she is young, because of her lack of training, she is here, being protected instead of offering protection. The least she can do is take care of her people.

“Do you want to hear about the Chuunin Exam finals?” she asks the children, the ones who didn’t go to the Academy or who flunked out.

They are still children of Konoha, and they know as well as anybody that Hinata-neesan was competing. They say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao folks I hate...writing fight scenes...why did I fall in love with a series that's mostly fight scenes...
> 
> As a sidenote, since I don't think it'll come up in the main fic and if it does come up in this collection, it won't be for a while: Hinata and Sasuke both get looked at by the medics and healed pretty quickly, and rejoin the competitors juuuuust in time for the Konoha Crush to begin. They're not in the infirmary with Ino, Sakura, and Chouji because a) Sasuke's planning on competing shortly, and b) Hinata wants to cheer Naruto on. When everyone gets knocked out, Kakashi gets Shikamaru to wake both of them up and sends them after Naruto, who's the one pursuing Gaara in this series of events, since Naruto's the one in the ring with him when he loses it. :) That Hinata's on the team pursuing Gaara will come up because uh. It kinda. Affects her character development. You know, just a smidge.


	4. I got no new tricks, yeah I'm up on bricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi, after the Konoha Crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Get Better," by Frank Turner, same as the fic title.
> 
> This runs from BN chapter 10-11, so if you haven't read chapter 11 yet ~~go read it and tell me it's good~~ you might wanna do that first.

Riku sleeps with his knives, now. Kakashi watches him from the window, unwilling to tread any further into the bedroom and risk waking his nephew up, unwilling to move any farther away.

His students are in the hospital. His nephew is in his own bed, in the apartment that’s started smelling a little like him while Kakashi was gone. Practically, Kakashi’s presence is unnecessary, frivolous even. He could be in his own bed. If he had to watch someone, there are others who deserve the scrutiny more than this boy, whole and mostly unwounded.

It takes hours for Kakashi to peel himself away, closing the window behind him. He almost leaves one of his pack behind, but that’s silly, too—too little, too late.

He’d been furious when he realized he _didn_ _’t know_ where Riku was. When Gai’s students had said _left with a medic-nin_ and Kakashi had processed, lightning-quick, that that meant his nephew could be _anywhere_.

Could be dead, or injured; captured, tortured, maimed; kidnapped; trapped, bleeding, chakra-exhausted.

Thankfully, Kakashi’s reputation is well-founded. When he went to Shikaku, reported to the man that he’d given the baby Nara an assignment, the Jounin Commander had simply nodded and put Kakashi to work on logging reports onto a map of Konoha.

Shikaku wasn’t petty enough to have given Kakashi any file but the one that tracked his nephew’s progress, and they both knew it. As soon as all the skirmishes were colored pins in Shikakau’s map, Kakashi was off to the hospital, and from there to Naruto’s apartment, just barely beating Riku to it. All the way, Kakashi strongly considered assigning one of his dogs to babysitting. None of them would begrudge it, but none of them would resist the opportunity to either embarrass Kakashi or convince Riku to sign the summoning contract, and a thirteen-year-old so new to the village has no business making that kind of commitment, genin or not.

Commitment. Tricky subject.

Satisfied that his nephew is safe and sound (for the moment), Kakashi swings by Gai’s apartment. He’d gotten a quick debrief during the exam and the battle that followed, but now he needs details. There’s a forehead protector on Riku’s head that deserves more explanation than “congratulations!”

Kakashi’s plan was never for Riku to graduate. The plan was never for Riku to take the test, let alone be able to pass it. Having Sakura teach Riku history had been a neat way of occupying her while Kakashi dealt with the more pressing problems Sasuke posed. Kakashi had _specifically_ presented Riku to Umino as someone who would need to focus on practical _shinobi_ skills, especially jutsu, before he could move on to the more abstract histories and social rules.

Sho had been like their mother: skilled, but not too skilled. Kind. Fragile, breakable. Their mother had died, but Sho had simply left.

Riku has that look about him, an air of fragility that has nothing to do with physical strength. Kakashi dearly hopes that this battle won’t shatter the boy, but he has contingencies just in case.

His contingencies would be easier to implement if Riku weren’t already a genin, though.

“It was necessary,” Gai tells him, when Kakashi asks _why_. (He actually asked, instead of dancing around the point or implying the question. They’re both exhausted, but the sharpness in Gai’s eyes tells him that his own impatience hasn’t been missed, merely ignored.) “He could not be a student for another day.”

Kakashi pauses, because that’s an odd way for Gai to word the sentiment if Riku had pressed, been over-ambitious. There’s an emphasis that Kakashi notes without understanding. Since they’re both exhausted, and there’s no one in the apartment besides Gai to pretend for, he asks, “Why not?”

Gai eyes him solemnly. Kakashi is usually comfortable around Gai, but then, usually _Kakashi_ is the quiet one. Nothing good comes from Gai being silent and brooding.

“What is it?”

“Form 3046.”

The air in his lungs goes cold, sharp. His breath ought to fog, and some irrational part of Kakashi is unsettled when it doesn’t. He has enough practice not to gasp, but he’s pretty sure Gai can still see the shock on his face.

Kakashi has seen it—all the jounin who used to guard Naruto have, because Sarutobi had insisted they file one if they saw _anything untoward_. (Only for all of them to miss what was, apparently, obvious to the first teacher to come across the kid.) Theoretically, anyone—any ninja—in the village can get a copy and fill it out.

“How do you know?” Kakashi asks, when he’s sure his voice will be steady. Cool like Gai accuses him of being effortlessly, and not cold-cracked-freezing.

Theoretically, the only people who should see that form, the only ones who should know about it, are the Hokage, the person who filed it, and the person it’s filed against.

Kakashi can’t look up. His naturally suspicious nature goes to war with his unshakable faith in Gai. Surely, _surely_ if he were doing that badly, Gai would have told him? Maybe not fixed it for him—it’s been decades since Gai’s tried _that_ , and if Kakashi remembers correctly, he’d bitten Gai’s head off for it—but at least let him know?

“I don’t,” Gai says, blunt and heavy. “I’m guessing. Sakura-san came to me, upset, just before his test. What she said, what she asked… Kakashi. You must have known you were neglecting him.”

Of course Kakashi had known; he’d just justified it, because Sasuke is on the cusp of a choice no twelve-year-old should have to make, with the weight of his past on one side and his present on the other. Kakashi’s been preoccupied trying to put a finger or four on the scale. He’d justified it because he had a prior commitment to his students, his team; because Naruto needs one-on-one training and encouragement to blossom into the brilliant shinobi Kakashi knows he’s capable of becoming, and Kakashi can’t give that to him _and_ to some other kid he’s barely met. He’d justified it, because he’s already neglected Sakura, with a budding talent in genjutsu and a better handle on her own chakra than some chuunin Kakashi could name, and she was there _first_.

He’d justified it because Riku isn’t going to _stay_. Why weigh the boy down by making the return path any more difficult? Why get attached and let Riku get attached, when it would only end, and sooner rather than later?

“I knew,” Kakashi admits. “That complicates things. Riku isn’t going to stay.”

Gai doesn’t look surprised, but he doesn’t look accepting, either. His expression might as well be carved onto the mountain (and _there_ _’s_ a thought). “Did he tell you that? Because he doesn’t act like someone planning on leaving.”

Kakashi tips his head to the side. At this point, Gai’s spent more time around the boy; on the other hand, Gai didn’t see his mother, his friend, his idyllic little hometown. After a second to think it over, Kakashi just shrugs.

Gai sighs. “A true ninja knows the value of communication. How often have you _talked_ to him? Talking can be cool, too, you know!” He flashes a smile and a thumbs-up, and Kakashi has the grace not to call him out on how wilted it all looks.

“So is sleep,” Kakashi returns, and it earns a startled, genuine laugh. Gai turns in after that. He must think that Kakashi’s statement means Kakashi himself will be going to bed as well, because there’s no stern reminder that sleep-deprivation kills more jounin than enemy ninja ever will.

More the fool he. Kakashi has no intention of sleeping, particularly not after hearing that someone (and he has an idea who would have the audacity to do it) has accused _him_ of dereliction of duty.

It’s still the small hours of the morning, though, so Kakashi reports first to Shikaku, still awake. As usual, Shikaku has enough paperwork to keep a dozen jounin up every night for a week, as well as the best coffee in the village. This time, though, Kakashi is unexpected, so there’s no assembled file with all mentions of his nephew waiting for him.

That’s okay. Kakashi has several hours before his nephew and Umino will be awake. He spends the time gathering his intelligence and assembling his case in his mind.

///

Riku is staying and Umino definitely filed the report.

Kakashi stews over his thoughts, over two conversations he had that morning, in front of the memorial stone.

Sometimes, he explains himself to the dead. His father. Obito. Rin. Minato.

He can’t imagine how to explain this, though. He never asked to be a parent and isn’t fit to be one; Minato had wanted it and never gotten the chance; Sakumo had tried and ultimately failed; Obito and Rin never got their chance.

“You’d do this better than me,” he says, and he could mean any of them. Even his father had never _neglected_ him, never neglected Sho. (Umino had been inexorable and incandescent with fury. He’d said _starving_. He’d said _freezing_. He’d said, “I can’t believe you’d make him and Naruto responsible for one another! They’re _children_! That isn’t healthy! Just because you don’t have time for either of them doesn’t give you an excuse!”)

He wonders what Riku’s mother would say. He wonders what _Sho_ would say.

His lip curls, hidden under his mask. Of everyone he could be talking to, his brother is on a very short list of people who would undoubtedly fuck it up _more_ than he is.

Older Brother, never out on a mission because no fifteen-year-old wanted to take the kinds of missions lone genin were generally offered, could always be found squirreled into some nook or cranny, an adventure novel in front of him and his knees scuffed from climbing the tallest thing he could get to in time to watch the sunset. Sho was the champion of bedtime stories, had a moral for every occasion, could spin a fairytale out of a cloud right in front of you. Kakashi’s not surprised his son agreed to come to another world, but he has no idea why Riku would want to _stay_ here when Konoha has nothing to offer him.

///

After the funeral, Kakashi isn’t the only one to keep tabs on his nephew. He’s a little surprised at who the other person is, though.

Hiashi’s tiny daughter slips away from her family with the practiced ease of a younger child. She trails Riku, and Kakashi follows them both, more amused than concerned. If Hiashi’s daughters are trying to give the man a heart attack by developing inappropriate interests, Hinata’s chosen the more devastating target, but Hanabi’s choice is just plausible enough to get the man _really_ nervous. After all, the Hatake might be an upstart clan with a long history of mostly minding their own business, but there have been arranged marriages with far larger age gaps. No, the larger stumbling block is that, as the heir to an endangered clan, Riku’s bride will absolutely have to join _their_ family—and, since Naruto’s the same, if the girls stick to these choices, Hiashi will be forced to either name a cousin (such as the prodigious Neji) or wait for a second grandchild.

Kakashi highly doubts that it will come to that; Riku’s shown no interest in girls yet, and even in a strictly traditional clan, thirteen is a little young to worry about arranged marriages. Hanabi’s interest is almost certainly mere curiosity. Still, the girl pursues his nephew with single-minded focus and no small amount of skill, keeping her pursuit hidden from her target and casual passersby.

It’s something to tease his nephew about, anyway.

Riku mourns, and the mourning is…odd. Interesting, in a sociological way. Kakashi wonders why he’s bothering, if it’s for himself or the dead or some combination.

Hyuuga Hanabi does not follow Riku all the way home; Kakashi does. He waits until Riku’s sleeping peacefully before leaving.

///

Uchiha Itachi is the universe’s way of reminding everyone that _anyone_ can be fragile, under the right circumstances. Itachi is a hammer, and people are just stained-glass windows waiting to be fractured into slivers and shards of nonsensical color. Kakashi is no exception.

_This_ _’ll do it_ , he thinks to himself, one of the last conscious thoughts he has for weeks. _This will be what drives him back home_.

(He’s wrong, of course, but he doesn’t realize that until much later; it is even later still before he realizes just _how_ wrong he is, and why.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth about posting this or chapter 12 first (it's done, I'm just waiting to finish chapter 14 and then do minor edits, so look for it next weekend), but decided to put it up because it's done (or as done as it'll get without me completely rewriting it...a second time).
> 
> Please kudos or leave a comment if you like this story! They really do mean a lot to me; I really enjoy hearing that other people enjoy this crossover. If you ever wanna chat about it, I'm down for that, either here or [on my tumblr](http://heraldaros.tumblr.com/), where I mostly reblog a bunch of fandom stuff and occasionally post writing updates at midnight, lol.
> 
> Heads-up, since I said to expect chapter 12 next week-ish: I'm back at work, which means I'm a) stressed and b) busy a lot of the time. Updates might be delayed. (Hopefully not back down to one a month, sob.)


	5. fault lines tremble underneath my glass house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke's dive to the heart and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title for this chapter from Sleeping At Last's "Earth."
> 
> Content notes: the usual Sasuke traumas, but not in any great depth.
> 
> This chapter takes place _during_ chapter 13 of BN and **before** Chapter 14. It does not resolve the cliffhanger (sorry not sorry).

Sasuke takes the sword and rejects the armor, of course.

When the shadows appear, he slices them, slower than he’d like with the unfamiliar weight and balance of the sword. He’s practiced with a variety of weapons, of course, but this one is different: this one is like Itachi’s. Sasuke has never willingly held one like it, until now.

Now, he holds it tightly, the only thing between him and the shadows, until even that isn’t enough and the shadows swallow him up. When he resurfaces, it isn’t on the platform, or even in the hallway of the hotel, or wherever it was Riku had found him. (His home? The hospital? Somewhere else?) He opens his eyes to the same Academy rooftop he sat on so long ago, Kakashi leaning against the railing in front of him and Sakura and Naruto on either side of him, close—too close.

Sakura’s hair is short, like it wasn’t when they actually sat here; Naruto is grinning, fingers laced behind his head, but there’s an infuriating confidence to him that’s new. Before, Naruto would fake confidence to cover his lack of skill and insecurity, but this is the real thing.

Kakashi’s little book is out. Idly, Sasuke wonders if his nephew knows just what it is that Kakashi reads—and then he tries to recall if Kakashi’s ever had it out while Riku’s around. He can’t remember seeing Kakashi ever pull it out with Riku in eyesight.

Maybe Kakashi _is_ capable of shame after all.

No one says anything, and at first Sasuke enjoys the quiet, since it gives him time to think. There’s a peacefulness to his team being here but not talking, not pressing him or demanding things or forcing him to acknowledge them. He can almost appreciate Sakura’s small smile, Naruto’s wide-eyed appreciation of the clouds, Kakashi’s reassuring presence.

Then it all starts to grate. Since when is Naruto ever quiet for _this_ long? For that matter, since when can _Sakura_ restrain herself for more than a minute? Kakashi, Sasuke would believe, if only because the man delights in making others uncomfortable, but there’s no indication he’s even actually reading—he doesn’t turn the page, doesn’t move his eye, doesn’t even giggle.

So, logically, Sasuke swings at Naruto’s smug little face.

His fist can’t connect; it’s like trying to punch someone through a thick layer of syrup. His fist slides past Naruto’s face, and despite Sasuke’s best efforts to redirect the strike, to pull his arm back and connect, even to backhand Naruto, nothing works.

Instead, Naruto tilts his head to the side, eyes finally focusing on Sasuke. There’s a blankness to them that Naruto _never_ has when looking at him—not so much an expression as the lack of Naruto’s normal determination, occasional rage, or rare awe.

“What are you afraid of?” he asks, and it’s Naruto’s voice, but without the teasing quality the real Naruto would inject into it. There’s no “scaredy-cat,” no mockery, no concern.

Sasuke’s Sharingan shows no genjutsu, either, though. And Riku _had_ been awfully insistent to leave. Had he known this would happen? Scratch that: he’d _said_ he did this himself, so obviously he _did_ know. Why would he put Sasuke through this?

Frankly, Hatake Riku isn’t capable of illusion at this level, not to mention that the boy’s shown none of his uncle’s tendency for mind-games, and it isn’t like Itachi to offer Sasuke any respite from watching his family die, and die, and die, and die.

Whatever else this may be, it’s a break from _that_.

Carelessly, Sasuke’s thoughts escape his mouth and he says _that man_ _’s_ name. He _isn_ _’t_ afraid of his brother; he’s going to kill Itachi and have his revenge, and he can’t be afraid.

The fake Naruto blinks at him. “Is Itachi so scary?”

_That_ lands like a foot on a broken branch: Sasuke’s whole train of thought goes crashing into the underbrush of a simple, calm statement. Naruto’s tone is faintly disbelieving—not _mocking_ , still, just confused, as if Sasuke has claimed to be afraid of ramen.

No, wait, being afraid of ramen would provoke an outraged response. Something else, something like the color red, or clouds—as if Itachi is innocuous and unremarkable, unworthy of rational fear.

Still reeling, Sasuke turns instead to Sakura, hoping for some normalcy. This is still better than his other visions, but now it’s gone from calm to annoying to bewildering.

“What’s most important to you?” she asks him, the soft smile on her face one that she never wears when addressing people, let alone him. It’s her smile for when she thinks no one’s looking and she’s just generally pleased with her life: a small expression, more in the eyes than the mouth. Sasuke hasn’t seen it since the Chuunin Exam began, and he wouldn’t say he missed it, but he can’t say he minds seeing it again.

Her question registers slowly in his mind, and after a moment’s hesitation, he says, “To avenge and restore my clan.”

Her smile doesn’t fade, but she sounds a little puzzled when she asks, “But which is it?” She doesn’t seem to expect a response, though, turning her head and staring out into the sky just past Kakashi’s shoulder.

On further reflection, this can’t be a genjutsu—even a weirdly powerful one like his brother’s, to fool his Sharingan—because anyone powerful enough to pull that off would know better than to do _this_. It can’t be meant to get information out of him, because the questions are ridiculously broad and nothing he’s said is a secret. It can’t be meant to slow him down or distract him because he was already incapacitated. It can’t be meant to drive him insane because, as weird as it is, it can’t hope to compete with Itachi’s torture on that front.

But if it’s not a genjutsu, all Sasuke’s left with is “actual dream” or “I don’t know.”

He has to stand and walk over to Kakashi—he could, he supposes, try yelling out to the man, but since when does he ask for Kakashi’s attention?

When he approaches, Kakashi barely glances up from his book. “What is it you want out of life?”

Sasuke glances back at Sakura, but she isn’t paying any attention. “I’ve already answered that question,” he says, irritation leaking into his tone even though he’d rather not betray any emotion.

The vision of Kakashi says nothing to that, not even to question it. So. Whatever this is, there are some responses it won’t accept as valid answers. He could test it, if he cared, but he doesn’t.

“To become powerful enough to destroy Itachi,” he says.

“Is that your best answer?” Kakashi asks, and the bland, faintly disbelieving tone is realistic enough that Sasuke experiences a moment of pure, blind rage.

Before he can act on it, though—and before the curse seal can react to it, if it even can in this place—Riku’s disembodied voice resonates across the rooftop. _You are afraid of Uchiha Itachi. You want to avenge and restore your clan. You desire power._

Sasuke considers the portrait that paints of him. The sword left his hand when the shadows swarmed over him, but he remembers the feel of it. He nods to himself.

_Your adventure begins in the dead of night. Your road won't be easy, but a rising sun awaits your journey's end._

A useless platitude; it doesn’t matter if there’s no light for Sasuke at the end of this road. He’ll walk it regardless.

_You are not ready now. The door is not yet open. Wait, Sasuke. Become ready._

His lip curls. Rich of _Riku_ to tell him he isn’t ready yet. Riku doesn’t seem ready for a single thing: not for being a ninja, not for belonging to a clan…

He did survive the invasion, though, when others didn’t. He may not know how to be a functional clan heir, but just his existence makes Kakashi more bearable, as if now the man realizes there’s more to life than messing with his students. He may not be a competent ninja, but helping him has kept Sakura and Naruto busy, grounded, focused on someone besides Sasuke or one another.

Maybe the guy isn’t _terrible_.

Sasuke wakes all at once, but his eyes don’t immediately focus. The room is smears of white and grey, a blur of yellow-and-black to one side that, when he rubs at one eye, slowly resolves into Riku.

Sasuke’s only half-aware of whatever Riku says, but he wakes up bit by bit as a train of medic-nins filter through the room, taking his temperature and checking his blood pressure and eye dilation and reaction time; some don’t even tell him what they’re doing before they lay cool, chakra-tinted hands on his forehead or shoulders.

He’s aware enough to note when Sakura, Ino, and Riku all enter the room, and he processes it when a medic-nin tells him his options are live with someone else for a week or stay here.

Staying here isn’t an option: he’s already hyper-focusing on the sound of pens on his medical chart, footsteps in the hall outside, blood pounding in his ears. At least in his own home, all the sounds are familiar, comfortable, comforting.

Conveniently, there’s someone who can come stay with him for a week. Sasuke doesn’t even ask Riku; the boy moved in with Naruto without a word of warning or protest, and he doesn’t seem anything worse than resigned to his fate. In fact, he seems more upset by Sakura’s comments about Naruto than about Sasuke’s assumption that he’ll move in for a week.

The first couple days go smoothly; Riku isn’t an irritating guest. He sleeps on the couch without protest, either makes meals or cleans up after meals Sasuke’s made, and doesn’t chatter incessantly. He asks Sasuke to come to the hospital with him, but when Sasuke refuses, he doesn’t push it. He wakes up with Sasuke, practices on his own, and takes instruction decently for someone who is _technically_ Sasuke’s senior.

In short, he’s about as interesting as a log, and Sasuke gets used to basically ignoring him just after the first hour. This turns out to be unfortunate.

///

Hinata visits a couple times; they never spoke to each other much in the Academy, but Sasuke spent whole years sitting next to or near her, one of the few classmates whose presence didn't grate most of the time. (Her timidity wore on him, but all his classmates had habits or mannerisms that wore on him.)

Ino comes by, even drags her team in to see him. Chouji tries to bond with him over being hospitalized. There’s a difference, though, between losing a match to a psychopath and getting knocked into a coma by your own brother. Sasuke doesn’t say that; he doesn’t say much to Chouji.

Shikamaru, at least, seems to have something he wants from Sasuke. “You were the closest to Naruto during his fight with Gaara,” he opens with, and Sasuke briefly debates telling him to fuck off, but decides that he isn’t the keeper of Naruto’s secrets. If Naruto even has secrets. (Would it be better or worse if he does? That would mean that he's been lying, and Sasuke was sick of liars at six. On the other hand, if he doesn’t have some secret to his success, that means he’s improved at such an astronomical rate _on his own_ , standing ready to surpass Sasuke on the strength of his own merits.

And wouldn’t that, by definition, say something about _Sasuke_? If Naruto can improve so quickly without a secret, why can’t Sasuke? Why _hasn_ _’t_  he?

Maybe it’d be better, if there was some hidden reason for Naruto’s sudden ability.)

So Sasuke tells Shikamaru what he knows, which isn’t much since he got knocked out before Naruto was even close to defeating Gaara. Still, if anyone can uncover secrets, it’s Shikamaru.

Sakura drops by frequently, mostly to fuss over him. Sometimes, she just talks, and he lets her fill up the silence when he would normally walk away. It isn’t that she’s less annoying now, isn’t that he’s grateful to her for her company, isn’t even that she’s his teammate. It isn’t that he feels some sense of obligation to spend time with her, with Kakashi hospitalized and Naruto off to hunt down and drag back to Konoha some medic-nin.

Sakura tells him about what he missed in the battle; she tells him about what he missed in his coma. She tells him that Asuma’s arm is injured, that Kurenai was partially flayed, that Gai is paralyzed and may never walk again. She tells him how the other teams are handling their teachers’ injuries—how the other teams are dealing with each of their teachers’ failures to defeat Itachi.

_This is the proof that Itachi wrecks people_ , she says, without forming those exact words at all. _This is evidence that it_ _’s not just you. You aren’t alone. Itachi is dangerous, more a wildfire than a man, and it’s not your fault you got burned._

For six years, he’s been the only one. The last, living casualty of the Uchiha Massacre. The only person who had seen—really, truly _seen_ , and Sasuke doesn’t want to examine that thought too closely—what Itachi was capable of. Is, still and always, capable of.

Now, there are others. None of them were hurt as badly as he was; no one died, this time. But that shaky sense of unreality? The vulnerability, the terror? It’s all present in the portraits Sakura paints of the other genin their age.

Sasuke never wished for his classmates to understand him. He’s not sure he likes it, now. They can’t totally understand what he feels, after all; no one died.

So he lets Sakura talk, and when she visits during his training times, she trains alongside him; slower and clumsier with the weapons than he's been in years, but determined. During jutsu training, he practices the Chidori (against medical advice, so he only does it when Riku is solidly ensconced in his routine, when there’s no chance for a quick break to send Sasuke back to the hospital), and Sakura practices the one Fire Release jutsu she knows.

She knows it because Sasuke taught her.

_Sasuke_ knows it because Kakashi, via his nephew and Naruto, delivered the jutsu scroll to him, along with instructions for Sasuke to teach it to one of his teammates (or Riku, the note had read with a little flourish, like even Kakashi knew that was asking too much). At the time, Naruto clearly expected Sasuke to do _something_  with him, and Riku was just there, and Sasuke thought, _like hell I_ _’m doing this_.

In that one, single moment, Sakura was less annoying than Naruto. After all, only one of Kakashi’s students successfully retrieved the bells from his nephew; only one of his students mastered tree-walking as easily as breathing. Teamwork had gotten Sasuke one but not the other, but maybe that was down to his partner, not the concept itself.

Maybe, if he’d teamed up with Sakura against Riku, they’d have won more quickly. He’ll never know now, but when he worries at the problem, analysis running in the back of his mind without any conscious input, he thinks they would have.

Sasuke, of course, doesn't need the jutsu; he has a much better version in the Great Fireball, but he learned it enough to help Sakura learn it. One of the last things Kakashi did before hauling Sasuke off for a month of solo training was check how well Sakura could perform the jutsu.

At the time, he'd deemed her attempt “adequate.” Now, Sasuke would call Sakura’s performance “decent.” He might even, if pushed, admit that her ability could be useful.

Not when she lights his shuriken targets on fire, though; then, she’s even more of a menace than Naruto generally manages to be.

///

Sasuke wakes up in the early hours of the third morning, tense and unsure why. The house sounds correct, no unwarranted creaking. The nights have grown cold, but Sasuke’s window is closed against that coolness and any breeze.

His Sharingan can’t see through walls, but he activates it anyway, knowing it’s a stupid waste of chakra even as he does it. He doesn’t summon the key Riku gave him, although he’s practiced with it—only when he’s alone, and only in the privacy (and secrecy) of his own home.

There are knives and other weapons secreted away throughout his house, but in his room, they’re near to hand. He picks up a brace of knives before he reaches the hall, a spool of wire in his other hand before he’s taken more than three steps.

In the living room, Riku’s still asleep. He’s here because of Sasuke’s injury, not to be Sasuke’s bodyguard, which is just as well: no bodyguard should be able to sleep with Yakushi Kabuto in the same room, let alone perched on the arm of the couch, one hand just barely hovering over their sleeping head.

“Hello Sasuke,” Kabuto says, voice pleasant and light and quiet enough not to wake Riku. “How have you been?”

Sasuke eyes the distance between Kabuto’s hand and Riku’s head. Too close. His knives wouldn’t reach before Kabuto could retaliate. A jutsu? But what does he have that Kabuto couldn’t counter?

Kabuto pointedly lowers his fingers, tips just grazing Riku’s ear. “It’s rude to ignore a question. _And_ to keep your kekkei genkai out like that. This is just a discussion.”

“In my house, in the middle of the night,” Sasuke says dryly, “with a traitor to the village.”

The symbol on Kabuto’s forehead-protector is a musical note. It doesn’t suit him at all, but then, Sasuke supposes that nothing would suit a chameleon like Kabuto. Whatever symbol he wears, it’s all a lie.

Kabuto waves his free hand, pleasant smile still pasted on his face. He doesn’t even dignify Sasuke’s words with a response.

Kakashi could wake up and have to be told that his nephew is dead and it’s Sasuke’s fault, or Sasuke can play Kabuto’s game until he finds an opening. There will be one—Kabuto is good, but Sasuke is a genius.

He deactivates his Sharingan, but he doesn’t even pretend to set down or hide the knives.

“I didn’t ask how you were just to hear myself talk,” Kabuto says, and now there’s an edge to his voice and his smile. “Is the curse seal still bothering you? You didn’t use it against Hyuuga Hinata, but then, you didn’t need to, did you?”

The fight against Hinata had been clean, professional, respectable. Untainted by Orochimaru’s corruption. Sure, part of that was because Hinata hadn’t and would never have warranted the power of the curse seal, but part of it was that Hinata is a _Leaf ninja_ , not anyone he would fight to destroy.

(Naruto, as always, is the exception to that rule. But then, Naruto somehow managed to defeat _Gaara_. Is Sasuke even capable of defeating him now? Can he still hold his own, even, or is that gone too?)

“I didn’t need to use it against a _comrade_ , no,” Sasuke says, leaving out any mention of Gaara and the fight against him. Either Orochimaru already knows about that or he doesn’t; either Kabuto knows about it or he doesn’t.

“Hm.” Kabuto glances down when Riku makes a small, thin noise, then moves his fingers in a mimicry of soothing. Riku turns quiet and still, and Sasuke narrows his eyes suspiciously.

There are several ways to break a genjutsu, and while Kakashi is occasionally a lackluster teacher, he did explain them to Sasuke during his month of training. Probably out of fear that Orochimaru would use genjutsu against Sasuke in the future.

Not that Sasuke’s close enough to release Riku—right now, anyway. All he needs is a hand on the other boy. (He could probably use the key at this distance, but that would mean revealing it to Kabuto.) If that fails, he can always nick Riku somewhere noncritical, like the ear Kabuto’s hand is so close to.

Assuming Kabuto put Riku under a genjutsu. (But then, why would Kabuto leave anything up to chance? Why would he risk Riku waking up during their conversation? Kabuto isn’t a foolish or stupid enemy, so Sasuke has to assume the worst.)

“What was it like, facing your brother again?” Kabuto asks, gleefully digging his fingers into a cracked rib, looking for the fracture and looking forward to breaking it further. “You haven’t seen him since he killed the rest of your family, isn’t that right? I imagine it was quite the reunion.”

Gritting his teeth, Sasuke tries to hold in his mind how awful it would be to explain to Kakashi that his nephew got murdered because Kabuto provoked Sasuke. He tries not to think about Itachi at all.

“Why are you here,” he gets out.

“You’re an investment,” Kabuto tells him. “Orochimaru-sama is _very_ interested in your improvement. Your confrontation with your brother was…disappointing.”

Despite himself, Sasuke feels outrage. How _dare_ Kabuto judge him for his weakness, when Kabuto himself had to retreat from ninja without even a fraction of Itachi’s skill or power? How dare _Orochimaru_ judge him?

When he starts to lunge forward, Kabuto says, “Ah-ah-ah,” and lays a hand on Riku’s head.

Sasuke seriously considers ignoring it for a few seconds. It isn’t even that he thinks he’ll be able to reach Kabuto quickly enough to prevent any harm from happening: he just doesn’t _care_.

And then he remembers that Riku didn’t _need_ to give him the key, to set him free from the cage of his brother’s nightmares, to wake him up and stay here to make sure he doesn’t injure himself. Sasuke _could_ be in the hospital right now, alone with Kabuto.

Part of him would prefer that, but it’s the same part of him that, a moment ago, didn’t care if Riku lived or died. The part of him that resents Sakura and Naruto for their weaknesses and their small kindnesses both, the part of him with no patience for Kakashi’s bullshit or his experience or his shortcomings.

The part of him, he’s pretty sure, that’s always been there, but has been getting worse since Orochimaru put the curse seal on him.

He bites it all back, steps back, relaxes his stance, and lowers his hands. Kabuto watches this with an air of amused disdain.

“If you want to even hope to beat Uchiha Itachi, let alone kill him,” Kabuto says, glasses flashing in reflected moonlight as he pushes them back up his nose, “you’ll take Orochimaru-sama’s generous offer. If Konoha had any way to beat Itachi, they would have already used it.”

Sasuke knows that; he’s known that for the last six years. There’s no one else in the village who can match his brother, and that’s a flaw in the people here, but also a flaw in Konoha itself. The village is weak. If Sasuke stays here, he’ll learn that weakness along with whatever useful jutsu he manages to pry from Kakashi and others.

“Orochimaru’s from Konoha,” Sasuke says, putting the hand with the wire to one hip and raising an eyebrow. “What makes him so strong? Why should I even bother with him?”

Kabuto points out: “You’ve experienced the power of the curse seal for yourself.” Then he seems to consider Sasuke. “Orochimaru-sama found strength in leaving the village behind. It’s a strength he thinks you’re capable of as well… As a possibility, anyway. Whether you can actually gain that power is in question.”

It’s meant to rile Sasuke, and it nearly works. Only after throttling the anger back does Sasuke realize that, if Kabuto is deliberately provoking him, there must be a reason. He _wants_ to see how Sasuke will react—this is a test. More to the point, this is an enemy testing his defenses.

Sasuke has already revealed some openings. Instead of laying bare even more, he rolls his eyes. “If Orochimaru could take on my brother, he wouldn’t be sending _you_ to talk to _me_. So, what _can_ he offer me?”

It has the ring of truth to it, even though Sasuke was mostly just throwing knives into the darkness. The darkness, it turns out, can bleed: Kabuto flushes, fingers twitching like they want to clench, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “He can offer you more power than _Konoha_ has.” Then, with a barely-noticeable deep breath, he regains his composure. “The offer is made, and you know what’s at stake. The question now, Sasuke-kun, is how you’ll respond.” And Kabuto pets Riku’s hair, just the once, before getting to his feet.

As soon as his hand is more than four inches from Riku, Sasuke’s knives are in the air. Kabuto vanishes a breath before they reach him; in the dim light, Sasuke hears but doesn’t see them land in the far wall, no doubt gouging it and leaving scars.

Shaking Riku doesn’t wake him up, and neither does calling his name. Sasuke considers hurting him, or using his chakra to disrupt Riku’s, and decides instead to pull one of Riku’s eyelids up and stare at him with the Sharingan.

Turnabout is fair play, and Riku _did_ see Sasuke’s nightmare. This won’t be original to Riku, it’ll be Kabuto’s idea of Riku’s dream—but then, Sasuke’s nightmare was _Itachi_ _’s_ work.

Riku’s sitting in a tree in a forest, like-but-not-like the forest surrounding Konoha. His head lolls against the tree trunk, eyes mere slits, hands crossed behind his head like Naruto. There’s birdsong, distantly, though Sasuke doesn’t recognize it.

“Are you real,” Riku asks, and those slits are focused on Sasuke, standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. “I came up here to get away from the fake ones. You’re not allowed to follow me.”

Had Kabuto created a fake Team Seven? Why bother? And why is Riku’s genjutsu so peaceful?

Kabuto could have broken it himself by now, but he hasn’t. Why?

“You need to wake up.” Sasuke crosses the space between them, crouching down in front of Riku. “Everything here is fake.”

“All my dreams are fake lately,” Riku says with a shrug. “Either they’re yours, or they’re weird ones with lots of questions, or I die in them.” His voice takes on a plaintive quality that Sasuke finds grating. “I used to dream about sailing, and other worlds, and now it’s just people killing me.”

“No one’s killing you,” Sasuke says, sure of that fact and irritated that he has to voice it at all. “Now wake up.” And he shoves Riku off the branch—hard, because Riku’s straddling it and tries to hold on with his legs. He’s no match for Sasuke, though, and he spills over and down, down, down, shouting all the way until he lands with a crash.

Sasuke isn’t sure whether that ought to count—it’s still within the genjutsu, after all—but a moment later, he lurches back into reality. Riku groans, shifts, and then rolls over, apparently falling into a real sleep.

With a sigh, Sasuke goes back to his room and collects a pillow and a blanket.

Kabuto won’t come back, and Orochimaru won’t send any other minions any time soon.

But Riku is vulnerable, and his uncle is still in the hospital, whatever worked for Sasuke apparently unable to penetrate Itachi’s hold on Kakashi. Naruto is gone to find a solution, someone to fix everything, and it isn’t like Sakura can be here to protect Riku.

Still, Sasuke makes sure he gets up before Riku wakes, returning his things to his room. If he hadn’t already committed to putting Riku on the couch, he’d lay out a futon at the foot of his own bed, the better to keep an eye on the kid. He has committed, though, and Sasuke isn’t about to explain why he suddenly feels the need to supervise Riku’s sleeping habits, so he just wakes up a little earlier each day than he would normally.

It’s just for half a week, after all—then Riku goes back to his own apartment. Kabuto wasn’t really interested in _him_ , just in rattling Sasuke. If Riku isn’t in proximity, he won’t be in danger.

Sasuke justifies his actions to himself and doesn’t feel the need to justify them to anyone else. He doesn’t tell any of the ANBU about Kabuto’s visit; he doesn’t tell the newly-appointed Hokage; he doesn’t tell Kakashi, when the man wakes up.

He does regret that, a bit, but that’s weeks later, and even with the Sharingan, he couldn’t have foreseen all the consequences of not telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I'm planning on posting Chapter 15 of BN this upcoming weekend; worst case scenario, it'll get posted sometime during the week of Thanksgiving.
> 
> Thank you everyone who comments and leaves kudos!! They light up my day and encourage me to keep writing and posting.


	6. Unfortunately, she literally signed up for this shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsunade's day hadn't been that great before the news that Hatake Riku was kidnapped. Then it's just one thing after another. Feat. more Hyuugas, Shikamaru, and everyone's favorite piece of paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: I'm pretty sure there's more cussing in this one than normal? (I edit SO MUCH cussing out of the Riku chapters, though, I think my measure is off.) Also, more Konoha worldbuilding, because a) I will make this city-state make sense, _I will_ , and also b) I cheerfully disregard anything I don't like, so. Mentions of bodily harm and death. Some mentions of politicking/political maneuvering. There's also a bit of a breakdown, but it gets comforted.
> 
> Takes place immediately after BN chapter 14.

Tsunade inherits a clusterfuck.

“Every other village has tested our defenses,” were some of Nara Shikaku’s first words to her. He said them while handing her a scroll detailing those tests, as much as their admittedly short-staffed guards could determine. Correlations between villages and methods used, witness reports where applicable, evaluations on what each village achieved, speculation on what they might have been after.

Jiraiya helps, to the best of his ability, but Tsunade knows her old teammate, even after all these years. He’s starting to get restless, starting to feel that itch of wanderlust or whatever it is that drives him so far from home for so long. (He isn’t running from anything, as best she can tell, not even his ghosts, and she knows better than most that he does have his own.) He teaches her the code he and the old man used, and then she and her teammate put their heads together and match up Jiraiya’s intelligence with Shikaku’s. The end results are…less than pleasant.

Every other village tested Konoha, and most found Konoha wanting. Several captured agents have been rescued, some by their home villages, others…possibly not. Some of Konoha’s chuunin are missing, presumed dead; Shikaku has had to supplement chuunin guard rotations with jounin, pulling them away from potentially critical missions abroad. Between mission pay and damages, Konoha’s treasury has more air than money, although the old man knew what he was doing with taxes and built up enough of a surplus that they’ll get through it.

Reviewing the old man’s expenses eats up a lot of her first days in office. Some of it is good: when the hospital needs funds, it gets them, and there are more clinics now than there were when Tsunade left. More schools, too, for the civilians. Orphanages. Foster care and adoption are both streamlined in ways that don’t quite make sense to her yet, but she suspects they’re good. There are few traces of the Kyuubi’s attack, whatever remained paling in comparison to Orochimaru’s most recent treachery.

Businesses catering to ninja are subsidized: all right, Tsunade sees the sense in that, since there are set prices for most necessary ninja gear. There are some broad leniencies that she’ll need to make some choices on, though. (Does the Yamanaka flower shop count, if the majority of its business is civilians but its _workers_ are all ninja?) Subsidized housing for genin living on their own: yes, good, although in Tsunade’s day they got dorms, not apartments. When she investigates where Sarutobi got all the land that then became apartments (almost doubling the amount of space per genin), it’s all from clans that are no longer extant, with one major exception.

Even Tsunade hasn’t been under enough rocks to have missed the news about the Uchiha clan. She has in front of her the paperwork evidence of all Sarutobi’s decisions regarding that event, and she’s not sure what to think. None of it is rational. There have always been strict rules in Konoha for attaining and keeping clan status; Sarutobi ran roughshod over all of them in the Uchiha situation.

There’s a difference, culturally, reputationally, and legally, between a family and a clan. Even powerful families aren’t always recognized as clans. That’s not just Konoha: that’s everywhere in the Elemental Countries. Hell, on the civilian side, most daimyo courts have diplomatic statuses for foreign clan members, so as not to insult potentially influential and touchy visitors. There are definitional differences between what the daimyo’s court considers a clan and what Konoha considers a clan, but because of extensive treaty negotiations, if Konoha says, “yeah, they’re a clan,” the daimyo of Fire Country honors that.

Extensive treaty negotiations that Sarutobi saw to personally, judging by the signatures. Tsunade doesn’t even need to look at the treaties (although she will, later, with a bottle in reach) to know that they’re airtight. From the dates, he wasn’t even Hokage at that point, just called in by Minato to oversee _that_ treaty.

Tsunade missed all of Minato’s brief tenure in this office, but from what she’s heard, he was savvy enough to know exactly what he was doing with that. Given that the first beneficiary of these treaties was his own student and the second became his wife, she wonders how many other people are aware of that fact.

Based solely on the paperwork in front of her, Hatake Kakashi would need to murder the Hokage and then confess in front of the entire village to lose his clan status, and even then, might not get it revoked from his nephew. Clans never used to have that level of protection; they existed at the Hokage’s whim and could have their privileges revoked at said whim. With these laws, however, Tsunade would be hard-pressed to completely disband any clan without solid proof of a conspiracy of treason. Anything less, and she could unilaterally kick the traitors out of the village, but the clan itself would still exist.

One in every three genin apartment buildings is on Uchiha land. When the Uchiha relocated to one section of the city, they didn’t sell or give up their land: they leased it to first Minato and then Sarutobi. The Uchiha clan is, therefore, entitled to a percentage of the revenue of that land, which is a pittance, and Tsunade has Fugaku’s signature attesting that he knew it was a pittance and was keeping those land rights for his family anyway. In the short term, it would have been worth much more to just sell the land outright; in the six years since the rest of his family was murdered, the combined pittances have made Sasuke one of the richest people in Konoha, for all that the money is tied up in a trust until he’s either twenty-five or a jounin.

Tsunade, as Hokage, reserves the right to dismiss from Konoha’s service any shinobi she wants; Minato and Sarutobi did nothing to limit that right. Tsunade could strip Sasuke of his genin rank, of his privileged status as a shinobi, could leave him a civilian in Konoha, but she cannot ban him from Konoha without making a case before the clan heads. That’s a new rule from Sarutobi’s negotiations, and even if every clan head personally despised Sasuke and wanted nothing more than to see his absolute removal from the village, she would still probably not get a majority vote expelling him, just because it would set a precedent that no one else would like.

Sarutobi’s laws grant the clans more power than they’ve had since the literal founding of Konoha. Setting a precedent by removing Sasuke would revoke some of that power and lay the groundwork for rolling back the rest. Tsunade can’t think of a single clan head who would allow that, let alone the half plus one she would need for a majority vote.

Setting that aside feels like leaving a tripwire unsprung in the middle of her escape route. She _knows_ this will come back to haunt her, but she doesn’t have time to deal with it—to figure out _why_ Minato and Sarutobi thought it would be a great idea to hand so much of the Hokage’s power over to the clans.

No, Tsunade has more pressing concerns, like all the holes in Konoha’s defenses where information might have been snuck out…or in. Shikaku set himself up to comb through everything, looking for missing files or discrepancies, but it will take years to go through all the archives, the files, the storerooms. A stray seal, well-placed to avoid detection, might easily slip past their notice until whoever left it there decides to wreck Konoha’s day. (Or, and Tsunade knows this is unpalatable to most ninja, seals do decay over time in many cases. Even if their treaties are repaired and Tsunade, through miraculous diplomacy, gets Konoha onto peaceful terms with literally every other village, any seals they’ve left are time bombs that could go off even without a trigger. It’s uncommon, and well-crafted seals— _Uzumaki_ seals—don’t do it, but most seals these days are. Well. They’re not Uzumaki seals.)

Tsunade familiarizes herself with the ninja under her command, especially the younger set. It’s the trick Sarutobi shared with his students, which she’s sure Jiraiya shared with Namikaze as well: the older ninja will always, in their heart of hearts, love their previous Hokage. They’ll be loyal to whoever’s wearing the hat, of course, they’ll swear obedience and follow orders, but they’ll never love any Hokage as much. The young ninja, though fond of the last Hokage, present the opportunity for a new leader to really make their mark. It is the youngest chuunin and the genin whose hearts and minds Tsunade will need to win over, and when she succeeds, they’ll be hers thoroughly; the jounin will listen to her, and be glad for someone to take charge in this chaos, but she’ll never be who they think of when they think _Hokage_.

Besides, she has a favorite brat already, and she wants to know more about her brat’s little friends and former classmates.

She’s working her way through the Hyuuga material late one afternoon—the Uchiha files ate up her morning, and then she had to deal with mission reports—when Shizune interrupts her.

There are no meetings scheduled, no more reports due to come in quite yet. Tsunade frowns as she calls for Shizune to enter.

“Ah, Hokage-sama,” and that means it’s business, “one of the genin is missing. Hatake Riku.”

Tsunade curses and mobilizes ANBU.

///

They don’t find him.

Two chuunin are dead, one in critical condition. Because a genin is missing, Tsunade authorizes a Yamanaka to attempt to find out who the attackers were from the still-living chuunin, knowing that it will decrease her chances of survival. She attends to the chuunin personally, after, but the young woman’s condition remains fragile, and Tsunade has too many responsibilities to drop everything and devote herself to one person’s recovery.

Or one person’s rescue.

Jiraiya offers to go looking for the kid, but even though the chuunin caught a glimpse of a Cloud symbol on a forehead-protector, that’s still too much ground to cover. Cloud is massive; on the other hand, once someone disappears into that country, they never come out. Of all the villages, Konoha has one of the better track records for recovering those captured by Cloud, and it’s entirely because Konoha shinobi get to them before the captors can leave Fire Country.

Hatake Riku was kidnapped in the early afternoon; by evening, they’ve determined which village’s agents took him, but not what direction they went afterward, nor why they took him.

In the meantime, Tsunade works through paperwork. She can’t help by anxiously pacing, she can’t help by hovering over her ANBU, she can’t help by leaving the village and trying to find the Copy-cat Ninja’s only living relative; instead, she does paperwork.

Including this—an unresolved Form 3046.

She knows what it is instantly. Medic-nins must be intimately familiar with it, because they’re the ones, more often than not, who file the damn things. A kid comes in, “oh, she broke her arm during training;” same kid comes in, “oh, she got that bruise during training;” same kid comes in, “oh, her sparring partner got too rough, kids these days, you know?” There have been whole months of her life where she mentally referred to this form as the “No, Tsunade-chan, You’re Not Allowed to Punch Douchebags in The Face No Matter How Much They Deserve It” form.

Tsunade has, in the course of her relatively short tenure in Konoha, filled out a dozen of them.

Umino Iruka’s is short, concise, and thorough. It’s not the worst accounting of sins that Tsunade’s read. Umino keeps his report professional and ends it by condemning the absent father, rather than the person truly at fault. That bit of politicking was no doubt for Sarutobi’s sake: for a man who believed as strongly in legacy as her teacher did, to hear that his successor’s student had failed so badly must have been…devastating. Umino’s conclusions were meant to soften the blow.

Tsunade is not Sarutobi; she feels no particular attachment to Hatake Kakashi, beyond that he is an asset and Naruto’s teacher. (Her eye does twitch occasionally, when the report touches on the issue of Naruto. As soon as he’s back in the village, she’ll have a nice, long talk with him, get his perspective on this shitshow.)

Hatake Riku is a genin, and he’s missing. Tsunade could light this report on fire, for all the good it does her now; she could light Kakashi on fire, for putting her in this position.

Hatake Riku is a genin and missing, presumed kidnapped by Cloud, and the report in front of Tsunade says, maybe he won’t be all that difficult to turn against Konoha. There are ways to foster loyalty, ways to build it even in a captured agent, and a thirteen-year-old with a handful of months’ training and a weak relationship to his home village to begin with isn’t what Tsunade would call an _agent_.

She reviews her resources, her assets, what Sarutobi left her in the village. She calls Shizune back in, and asks to see three people: Umino Iruka, Maito Gai, and Hyuuga Hanabi.

///

Umino is beside himself through the whole meeting. Hatake wasn’t his student for long, but that doesn’t seem to matter to the teacher. He offers what insight he can, including the opinion that Hatake will be harder to suborn than the report suggests.

“He’s pretty close to Naruto,” Umino says, “and Sakura. And he doesn’t have a bad relationship with his uncle, really…”

Tsunade taps the folder on her desk. The edge of the form is all that’s out, as if she didn’t quite tuck it in all the way, but Hatake Riku’s name is visible from where Umino stands.

He flushes and scratches the bridge of his nose. “Ah, well. I don’t think Riku blames his uncle.”

Interesting. “Who would he blame?”

Another scratch, this time with a brow furrow. Discomfort, or just thought? The old man would know in a heartbeat, but Tsunade needs to learn all her subordinates’ tells. “I don’t know that he would blame anyone. I think he just…accepted the situation.”

“Hm.” That could be good, could be bad; Cloud might be able to capitalize on that, plant all sorts of ideas in his head, depending on how much he noticed or didn’t. How hard would it be, to convince a young teen that his uncle had deliberately neglected him?

After Umino, Gai sheds more light on the boy’s personality.

“He would be competitive,” Gai says, “if he had someone at his level to compete with.”

“Huh.” She flips through his official file, specifically his genin assessment. “He tested as a genin.”

Gai doesn’t do melancholy very well, but injury can change a person. He’s recovering, but his movements are stiff; Tsunade observes, with critical eyes and years of medical practice, the signs that he’s pushing himself a little too hard for PT. He sighs, and the movement ripples through his body.

“He has improved rapidly since entering the village. I have no doubt,” and there’s the exuberance Tsunade expected, based on accounts of this man, “that he will one day be one of Konoha’s best!”

“But right now, where would you put his abilities?”

The man wilts worse than any houseplant Tsunade’s tried to grow. (She did not inherit a green thumb.) “Physically, he is…average for a genin, now.” Now, as in after Gai’s poured so much one-on-one training into the kid. Right. “In jutsu, I believe he could stand against some genin.”

“And in terms of what he knows? Critical thinking? Strategy?”

Gai makes a face. “I…could not say.”

Which tells her enough, really; if Gai had him sparring with another genin, he could have evaluated Hatake’s reflexes and strategy, so if he can’t, Hatake hasn’t been ready for that.

So, Cloud captured a half-trained at best genin, related to one of Konoha’s most famous ninja.

Tsunade thanks Gai, just as she thanked Umino, and has Shizune send in her third appointment.

Hyuuga Hanabi comes with an attendant, her father, and a Hyuuga elder. Tsunade does not groan out loud or roll her eyes in front of them, but she does say, “I will speak to Hanabi-san alone.”

The elder starts to protest—no doubt his purpose here, so that Hiashi can save face without offending the new Hokage—but Hanabi merely bows and says, “Yes, Hokage-sama,” as if Tsunade had addressed her.

The ANBU gently prevent the three adult Hyuuga from entering as they close the door to Tsunade’s office, leaving her alone with the child. Hanabi alone of the people Tsunade sent for seems to have dressed for the occasion: she has put on a formal kimono and pulled her hair back in a simple braid rather than a more elaborate style. Her posture is exactly correct, and she meets Tsunade’s eyes without fear rather than looking down demurely.

This is the Hyuuga heir. This is the only non-adult currently in the village noted in Umino’s report.

“Tell me about Hatake Riku,” Tsunade says.

Hanabi’s eyes shine.

///

Nearly thirty minutes later, Tsunade dismisses the girl.

That isn’t a crush, unless children’s crushes have changed since Tsunade grew up. Hanabi is blunt about Hatake’s weaknesses where a crush might have softened them; her tone leaks frustration when she speaks of his shortcomings.

Also, when she speaks of his uncle. Umino clearly did not consult her: her account goes further than his, and she places the blame squarely on Kakashi, not on his absent brother.

According to Hanabi, Hatake Riku might be a prodigy on par with her cousin. She cites his extremely rapid growth, quick proficiency with unfamiliar jutsu, and willingness to accept help from anyone. He is hampered, she argues, by his lack of foundational knowledge and skills. She estimates that he can catch up to the genin his age within the next three years and begin surpassing them shortly after.

“Would you describe him as a good friend?” Tsunade asks, to find out that Hatake has not just been living with Naruto, he’s been taking care of the boy. Hanabi compares it to servitude with clear disapproval, but to Tsunade, it sounds like an older brother taking care of a younger sibling. (But where would Hatake have _learned_ how to act like an older sibling in the first place? Nothing in his file answers that.)

“He’s loyal,” Hanabi says without prompting. “He won’t betray Konoha.”

Tsunade raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I reported him missing,” Hanabi tells her (Tsunade can’t quite mask her surprise, and Hanabi’s mouth twitches into a brief smile). “He didn’t leave on his own. He would have taken his pictures, and he didn’t.”

“Pictures?”

“Of his friends, from where he grew up.” Tsunade is reasonably certain that Hanabi has seen these pictures firsthand; she’s also reasonably certain Hatake didn’t share them with a little girl. “Whoever took him made a mistake. He won’t turn against us.”

“Why not?”

Hanabi frowns. After a long pause, she says, “Uzumaki is here. Riku doesn’t like people insulting Uzumaki. Leaving the village would upset Uzumaki, so he wouldn’t.”

Tsunade considers what she was willing to do for Naruto after just a week’s exposure. Now, extrapolate that effect by how long Hatake was exposed…

“Not his uncle, or Gai?” Tsunade checks. “Just Naruto? What about Haruno Sakura?”

Hanabi seems to give that some thought before shrugging. “Maybe. He respects Maito Gai.”

Tsunade accepts that answer and dismisses the girl. Hiashi, the attendant, and the elder are all still waiting, and will doubtlessly review everything discussed back in their compound. The way that Hiashi says, “I hope your interview was enlightening, Hokage-sama,” is within a breath of insubordinate.

Hearts and minds, she reminds herself, are not easily won. And Konoha has lost one of her genin, on top of the chuunin already dead or injured in defense of the village.

Hearts and minds. She works through the night and, first thing the next morning, calls Shizune and her ANBU into her office.

“Assemble the Chuunin Exam proctors, and summon Nara Shikamaru and Hyuuga Hinata.”

///

Not a single person protests Nara Shikamaru’s promotion. Mitokado is in favor of that promotion, and just as strongly against promoting Hyuuga Hinata. Utatane is more reserved, though she agrees with her teammate. Danzo warns Tsunade that rewarding a self-destructive loser will be detrimental to morale.

Given how many jounin listen to the council, Tsunade is certain the decision will be bad for morale; she’s equally certain that she needs to do it.

It might smooth over any sting Hiashi feels about her interrogation of his heir, but more than that, all accounts agree that Hyuuga forced Uchiha to take her seriously. And despite having fought against one another so recently, the two were then able to work together to find and support Naruto in his fight against Sand’s jinchuuriki. Beyond that, Tsunade read the reports of what Hyuuga _said_ to Uchiha.

She can’t promote Naruto, not with the performance he gave, not with the council and the general consensus of the village so firmly against him. She can promote Naruto’s _ideals_ , the ones she herself found compelling enough to take the Hat, and try to foster them in the younger ninja.

Tsunade calls in both Nara and Hyuuga once the adults have assembled.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do. With the final exam being suspended, it was the opinion of many that none of the students should pass this time around--and that includes you.

“Nara Shikamaru.” The boy straightens a touch; his expression remains placid, but Tsunade’s worked with his father enough now to notice the signs of a Nara’s mind at work. “I hear that the Third Hokage had nothing but the highest praise for your match…”

She goes on to explain how uniformly-approved the decision to promote him is, but she isn’t paying attention to him. Hyuuga Hinata’s eyes are locked on the floor, a perfect opposite of her sister’s demeanor; her posture is nearly as perfect, her shoulders just a shade too rounded. The girl’s cheeks are slowly but surely flushing darker.

“Hyuuga Hinata.” The girl looks up at that. She gets ahold of the blood in her cheeks—possibly by force, given how quickly her face returns to its normal color. If her control is that good… “Your match was more controversial. Like Shikamaru,” and she really ought to start thinking of them by their first names, especially since these are going to be her first-best-most-loyal, “you lost your match. However, I have read the reports of your match. Of all Konoha’s genin, you most strongly embodied the Will of Fire: when you entered that ring, you faced your brother, and you made him face you.”

Several of the proctors nod, including a few who had voted against Hinata’s promotion. Hinata herself is wide-eyed, lips and hands trembling. Her shoulders have straightened out, though, and however wide her eyes are, they’re locked on Tsunade.

“Traditionally, the Chuunin Exam is where the village displays its skills to the civilians, the daimyo, and other villages. I agree with several of your proctors that you did not prove your ability to go into battle. What you demonstrated, for everyone to see, was Konoha’s ideals. Not only that, but you successfully made a high-profile, powerful genin work with you.”

Shikamaru gives no sign of listening, projecting an air of boredom at odds with how his lips part, just slightly, as he grasps Tsunade’s train of thought. Hinata hasn’t gotten there yet.

“As ninja, we do not fight all or even most of our battles on the battlefield. Our combat is just as often behind the scenes, in gathering information and planting ideas. While we need fighters who can stand against our enemies and hold them back, we also need idealists to remind ourselves and the other villages that Konoha stands for something. More than that, we need idealists who can change people’s minds and their actions.”

Hinata goes a delicate pink as she realizes what Tsunade is praising her for.

“By all accounts,” and Tsunade doesn’t sweep a glance over the room, but in her peripheral, the guilty parties drop their gazes regardless, “Uchiha Sasuke was one of if not the single most impressive genin of your graduating class. He had the highest marks; his team has the most impressive mission history. And yet, you faced him, not with duty or ambition, but with the love and respect that all Leaf-nin have for one another. You reminded him, and everyone watching, what the Will of Fire requires from all Konoha ninja: the love of the village and everyone in it that goes beyond the individual.”

She’s laying it on a little thick, especially considering she didn’t watch the match herself and has only reports written days later to form an impression, but she sees tears in the eyes of a couple chuunin, and Hinata herself is shiny-eyed and awed. Shikamaru has one eyebrow cocked at her speech, but he doesn’t change his expression otherwise. Brat.

As she says the last words, she dips the brush in ink and signs the paperwork that make her words official. “Nara Shikamaru. Hyuuga Hinata. From this day forth, I hope you will strive to achieve a level of excellence worthy of those headbands. Congratulations: as of this moment, you stand as chuunin.”

There is no applause, just quiet nods and smiles of congratulations from the assembled proctors as they begin to file out. The newest chuunin stay where they are until everyone but Shizune and Tsunade herself remain. Then, the two exchange looks.

“Y-you can go first,” Hinata says quietly.

Shikamaru makes a face, seems like he’s going to argue, then sighs like that’s too much work. He meets Tsunade’s gaze. “If you’re promoting people for what they believe in, why her and not Naruto?”

Shizune starts to protest the rudeness of the question, but Tsunade raises a hand to stop her. “Naruto’s match in the exam wasn’t a very good showcase of his ideals.”

“You could promote him anyway,” Shikamaru says.

“No,” Tsunade says, with deliberate emphasis, “I couldn’t.”

He narrows his eyes at that, but whatever he thinks of it, he doesn’t say. He just motions for Hinata to take her turn.

She fidgets, pushing her index fingers together and turning red again. “Ah. Um. I would prefer to speak to the Hokage alone.”

Shikamaru looks at her, and Hinata holds his gaze for a moment before looking down once more.

“Whatever,” he says finally, and, with a perfunctory bow, he leaves the room.

Hinata casts a pleading glance at Shizune, who also excuses herself.

Tsunade waits for Hinata to voice the question written all over her face, and when the girl seems unable to, she asks, gently, “Are you wondering why I promoted you?”

Hinata nods. “What you said. It—it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t thinking of the village when I fought Sasuke.” The tears welling up in her eyes threaten to spill over. “I just wanted Naruto to notice me. I-I wanted to prove myself to him,” she rubs at one eye, and the tears start rolling down her face, “the way he’s always proved himself to everyone. It wasn’t the Will of Fire. It wasn’t even because I respected Sasuke. I d-d-didn’t care about him at all.” And she’s hiccupping and half-sobbing through the last few words, confessing her sins. She shows no signs of feeling relief at getting them out, either.

Sighing, Tsunade rises and walks over to her. She isn’t a mother, or an aunt, but she’s been a big sister, and she’s a medic. She knows how to handle tears. She takes the edge of her green robe and uses it to dab at Hinata’s face.

More tears come leaking out, and the girl now looks heartsick and mortified.

“Shh, shh,” Tsunade lays her free hand on Hinata’s shoulder, partly to offer comfort, partly to keep her from bolting. “It’s alright. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I t-tricked you,” Hinata sniffles, “into making me a chuunin.”

Chuckling, Tsunade finishes wiping the worst of the tears and snot off the girl’s face. “If you had, I think that would warrant promotion by itself. But no, you didn’t trick me, or lie to anyone except yourself.”

Hinata hiccups, looking conflicted now. Like she wants to believe, but skepticism is still winning.

“I’m sure you thought you were just trying to get Naruto’s attention. That sounds plausible to me, but I haven’t been here long enough to tell you whether it’s true for you. But the way you did it, in front of everyone watching? You got his attention by doing what he would do, and I have met very few people who could hold a candle to Naruto’s Will of Fire.”

Hinata doesn’t look convinced, so Tsunade goes on: “We can’t judge others by their thoughts, only their actions. It doesn’t matter what you were thinking about in that arena. Your actions were the actions of a true Konoha shinobi; you showed the audience that, even in an exam like that, Konoha ninja are family. You fought Sasuke as your brother-in-arms and made him recognize you as his sister-in-arms. And, on top of that, you made it obvious to everyone watching that Konoha shinobi fight for ideals, not just for glory.

“Hinata.” She waits until the girl meets her eyes. “You did that. Not Naruto. Not Shikamaru or Sasuke. That’s why you’re being promoted.”

“I. I thought chuunin were supposed to be…better. A-and have more skills than genin.”

“Hm.” Tsunade turns back to her desk and picks up Hinata’s file. “Well. It says here that you used several different water release jutsu. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” The girl seems to be recovering now, which is good; she’s hunching back into herself, which isn’t.

“And you also demonstrated skill with your family’s techniques.”

“I didn’t—”

“That wasn’t a question,” Tsunade cuts her off, gently. “That’s from a report from my ANBU. You showed more skill than we’ve seen from a Hyuuga in years. You’re also one of the few Hyuuga to agree to full-time service as a ninja. Your jounin-instructor says that you work well with your team and that your ability with your dojutsu has been an asset on several missions. Tell me, Hinata: why shouldn’t I promote you?”

“It isn’t fair,” she says, with a set to her jaw that tells Tsunade this may very well be the heart of the issue. “I haven’t earned it, and the people who have didn’t get promoted.”

“Naruto?”

“And Neji-nii-san.” She goes lightly pink at the nickname, but nothing like earlier.

Tsunade sets the file back on her desk, retreating to her seat and sinking into it with no relief, only tiredness edging into exhaustion. Honestly, these children. “As I said, Naruto didn’t have a particularly good match to show off what he’s capable of. And your cousin lost his match in the preliminaries. I’m afraid luck is almost as much a factor in all our lives as skill, and those two were unlucky. They will have other chances, Hinata.” A pause. “It’s okay for you to accept this. You did, in fact, earn it, and I have faith that you will prove me right.”

Hinata bites her lip, then bows low. Lower than the former Hyuuga heir should bow to anyone, even her Hokage. “Thank you, Hokage-sama. I will work to ensure that your faith in me is not misplaced!”

“See that you do. You’re dismissed.”

///

  
She gives Shikamaru and Hinata a day to settle into their rank and celebrate while the ANBU and jounin finish compiling all the evidence they’ve managed to gather. While waiting, she works through the remaining backlog of paperwork and finds an official petition that, she bets, the original writer would rather she not find at this particular moment.

The petition is to revoke the Hatake’s status as a clan.

There’s a lot of flowery language in it, interspersed with “as you know”s and implied threats. Tsunade’s own clan status, like Sasuke’s and now the Hatakes’, benefited from Sarutobi’s laws. Under his predecessors, a clan with few shinobi to its name was “in decline” and was, legally, only a “probationary clan.”

Councils in Konoha have always been at the Hokage’s whim; like most other villages, who gets to sit on the council and what, precisely, the council can do changes with each generation. In his first term, Sarutobi had an expanded council that included his teammates, heads of several different divisions, and heads of the more prominent clans.

It seems that Minato, or maybe Sarutobi in his second term, broke off the clan heads into their own council, which meets—Tsunade checks—about once a month, and has an expedited path to proposing laws and reform, among several other benefits.

Probationary clans, initially, had no voting rights in the clan council (though a clan representative could sit in on the council sessions), had fewer legal rights than full clans (they couldn’t sponsor shinobi to the Academy or to ANBU, could only sell clan land to the Hokage at a reduced price, could not negotiate private trade deals, could not join the daimyo’s court as private citizens, could not emigrate from Konoha…), and were at constant risk of losing clan status at the Hokage’s whim.

Now, the only way for a clan to be declared “probationary” is if they all outright leave the village; if they do not return within five years, Tsunade can revoke their clan status and seize any assets left in the village.

The letters all but point out that it’s blatant self-interest for Tsunade not to grant the petition against the Hatake, as if the only reason she has for not doing so is not setting a precedent that could be used against her.

Well, that and the fact that the Hatake heir has been _kidnapped_ , but of course the petition was written and submitted before that. With distaste, Tsunade picks up the scroll; the writing is smooth and anonymous, with none of the little tells that Orochimaru long ago despaired of ever being able to teach her to spot.

“Joke’s on you,” she says out loud, to the ghost of Orochimaru, to the ghost of this petition-writer, to herself.

///

When she makes the announcement to the general population of Konoha—if she didn’t make it first, Cloud would definitely leak the news, so it’s better to get ahead of these stories—that one of their own was taken, she addresses many things in her speech. It’s her first speech as Hokage, and she, Shikaku, Jiraiya, and Shizune all worked on it.

She doesn’t just inform the village that Hatake Riku was kidnapped; she introduces and then denies, with extreme prejudice, the petition to strip clan status from a family in such a time.

“Konoha, as a village, has traditionally accepted and honored clans, not just of shinobi, but of civilians as well. We are stronger for this policy,” she tells the crowd, “and I will not be party to weakening the village now, when we must be strong; I will not divide us when we must be united.”

Her people cheer.

///

With the report ready, she summons Shikamaru and Hinata to deliver it.

“Kakashi and his team are assisting in a coup,” she tells them; unlike Team Seven, they’ll be traveling on foot, so although they have the mission details, they may not have time to read them. “You are to provide whatever assistance they require until their mission is complete. _Only_ once their mission is over will you give that report to Kakashi. Don’t even hint about it before then. Do you understand?”

They both nod their assent. They’re so young.

“Hinata.” The girl, already straight-backed with her eyes on Tsunade’s, tenses. “The Land of Snow is close to the Land of Lightning, and Cloud ninja have already stolen one of ours. If you feel this mission will endanger you, you can say no.”

Hinata doesn’t say anything for a long moment; if she had, regardless of her answer, Tsunade was prepared to bench her. But she’s quiet, thinking it over, before turning to Shikamaru.

“What do you think?” she asks, in a quiet voice but without stuttering.

He shrugs. “It’s a risk. Once we meet up with Kakashi, we’ll probably be safe.” Tsunade’s eyes narrow and he must catch it, because he adds, “The Cloud ninja attacked when they wouldn’t have to face any jounin. They can take on chuunin, but I think they don’t want to mess with anyone stronger, and Kakashi has a reputation.”

Hinata looks conflicted at that analysis, and asks, after another thoughtful pause, “Will it just be us?”

“The village can’t spare any jounin, or any other chuunin. If you two don’t go, we don’t have any way of informing Kakashi.” Mostly because the man hadn’t shared his summoning scroll with anyone in the village; if he _had_ , this would be easier. (Not that Tsunade has much room to talk, she hasn’t gone out of her way to share the slug summoning scroll, but up until recently her whole goal was avoiding contact with anyone put Shizune. Kakashi has no excuse.)

“What about genin?” Hinata asks.

Tsunade frowns, then raises an eyebrow at Shikamaru. “What do you think?”

“You don’t have any way of contacting him, so you don’t know how his mission is going.” Shikamaru’s tone is bored and he’s slouching now, no longer impressed enough by her presence to stand up straight. That didn’t last long. “This coup is too dangerous for you to send genin in by themselves.”

She nods, but Hinata shakes her head.

“Not by themselves; could you send a genin with us?” Her expression is determined, her tone more confident than it’s ever been. “My cousin is more skilled than either of us at fighting, and his Byakugan is better than mine.”

Now Shikamaru looks interested. “That could work,” he says.

It could; better yet, it gives Tsunade a counterargument if Hiashi complains about the risk of sending Hinata so close to Cloud. The entire point of the Branch House is to protect the Main House.

Besides, even Tsunade knows that Gai’s team are stir-crazy. If she could send all of them, she would, but she needs to be pragmatic. Team Gai are the most highly-qualified fighters in the genin ranks, and this mission promises to take weeks if not longer. She can’t really afford to lose _three_ excellent combatants, not when every healthy jounin is running back-to-back missions and all the chuunin are working guard duty plus other assignments.

“All right, I’ll authorize it. Do you both accept this mission?” They assent, and she stands up. “Pack warmly, then, and leave in the next three hours. Dismissed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very much one of those chapters that I just needed to stop staring at and be done with, but I wanted to get it up to explain...well, why Shikamaru, Hinata, and Neji just show up out of the blue, lol.
> 
> There are things I like about this chapter and things I...don't, so I think this is a good time to remind everybody that I plan on going through and revising p much everything at some point, to clean up details and character voices, adjust some things, etc. If/when that happens, I'll be sure to post any/all content changes as a list.
> 
> And when I do that, that list will be on [my new DreamWidth](https://heraldaros.dreamwidth.org/), where I may also start posting preview snippets, ideas, etc., if anyone's interested in that? I also have [a Twitter](https://twitter.com/HeraldAros) that I definitely don't know how to use.


	7. I Want to Feel Tectonic Shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuru, Riku, and the start of Team Medic-Nin.
> 
> (aka "Tsuru calls in that favor Riku owes her." Working title was "Matchmaker, Matchmaker." Chapter title from Sleeping at Last's "Taste.")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: while this chapter is I think still gen, it deals with physical attraction between age-related peers of different ranks who later become mentor/mentee (see end notes for more details if you're worried about this), with offhand references to a relationship that later breaks up pretty badly; also, there are more mentions of the medical process than BN got into, for the most part. Fair warning, this one is OC-focused.
> 
> This ficlet owes a huge debt to the podcast _Sawbones_ , without which I would have tried to BS _everything_ and probably given up partway through. I'm claiming artistic and/or ninja license on all the ways this hospital functions differently from a real hospital.
> 
> Quick timeline note: this starts several months after BN ends, and references a Suna Chuunin Exam that ~~has been moved up (a year after Konoha Crush instead of two and a half years after).~~ happens the same as canon, I switched the Exams around, presto. Sand's exams are January of the year AFTER this fic takes place; Mist's are going to be in late fall/early winter of the CURRENT year.

“Wait, who’s _that_?”

Tsuru wouldn’t call herself shallow, but she notices attractive women. And this woman? Is stunning.

Her skin is a warm brown, and looks smooth except for a pair of red, shiny scars on her right cheek. Her eyes are _gold_. She’s dressed like the chuunin residents at the hospital—plain olive top with a modest V-neck and sleeves above the elbow so they won’t get in the way, cream-colored apron above black shorts that end mid-thigh, _miles_ of leg down to standard ninja sandals.

She’s walking those legs toward Tsuru and Riku with purpose, carrying a folder, and since Tsuru _definitely_ doesn’t know her, it makes sense that Riku might.

“Huh?” The boy is _useless_. If he wasn’t a nice distraction and occasionally hilarious, Tsuru wouldn’t have anything to do with him. “Oh. That’s Anzu.”

 _“Anzu_ ,” Tsuru sighs, and then the woman’s there, smiling at them. (Well. At Riku.)

“Good morning,” she says. Who says _good morning_ anymore? Not any of Tsuru’s friends, that’s for sure. Her friends are all rude and stressed intern-genin, or rude and busy errand-running-genin. Tsuru barely rates a _hey_ from Riku most days, and he’s the least rude, least stressed person she knows.

“Hey Anzu,” he says. “What’s going on? I don’t usually see you in the mornings.”

Tsuru raises her eyebrows at that. He sees this Anzu later? Every day, or just sometimes? How close are they? She looks about Tsuru’s age, so they can’t be classmates—Riku didn’t really have classmates, anyway, although he has those other twerps who sometimes come and distract him on his shifts.

Anzu sighs and purses her lips, then hands him the folder. “Nao-sensei sent me with Chihiro’s file. She wants you and Mariko to review it before the surgery tomorrow.”

Tsuru blinks and then stares, hard, at Riku. “You’re working on a _surgery_?”

Shaking his head, he explains, “Honda-sensei is doing the surgery. Mariko will be helping her.” He turns back to Anzu. “She is going to be there, right?”

The barely-concealed hope on his face is too awkward to look at, and anyway, Anzu is _right there_. Tsuru wants to run her hands through Anzu’s long, messy, reddish-orange hair. It looks soft and clean. (Tsuru is suddenly, intensely aware of how many hours—34, past the threshold of “kind of gross” but not yet at “socially unacceptable to be seen in public”—it’s been since she washed her own hair.)

“Mariko will be Nao-sensei’s assistant, yes,” Anzu says, and Riku’s face falls. Anzu doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then steps forward and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Riku. You’ll have your time.”

“We started at the same time,” he says, with more heat than Tsuru’s ever heard from him. “Why can’t I be there, too?”

“You aren’t ready yet.” Anzu taps the folder in Riku’s hand. “Review that. Report to Nao-sensei this evening.”

She starts to turn, then seems to catch herself and looks at Tsuru. “I’m sorry, I’ve been rude. Tachibana Anzu.” She bows, perfunctory but still more polite than Tsuru’s used to.

“Uh. Kuroishi Tsuru.” Tsuru bows back and rises in time to catch another smile.

“Pleasure to meet you. You work with Riku?”

“I’m _her_ assistant,” Riku says with a roll of the eyes. “She taught me how to read medical files.”

Since he was _not_ supposed to read most of the ones she handed him (and, for that matter, she wasn’t supposed to read a few of those), Tsuru laughs and says quickly, “He was a little bit hopeless when I met him.”

“Well, I’m glad he has you.” Anzu’s eyes crinkle when she smiles, and she has _dimples_. “I’ll see you later, Riku. If you’ll excuse me.”

And then she’s gone, a neat swirl of autumn-colored leaves a few weeks too late to be natural.

When Tsuru recovers from staring dreamily where Anzu had been, she finds Riku scowling at the file. She has to snap her fingers directly next to his face before he flinches and pays her any attention.

“You,” she hisses, “have some explaining to do.”

///

Hunched over a table in the library, Tsuru interrogates Riku and learns the following:

Tachibana Anzu is a chuunin, which Tsuru might have guessed from the flak vest. Honda Nao, one of the premier medical jounin (one of the few actual _full_ jounin assigned to the hospital, rather than a tokubetsu jounin), took the woman on as an apprentice when she was fresh from her Chuunin Exam. Anzu is eighteen, widely-liked, and single.

That last bit, Tsuru isn’t sure of. Riku would most likely not notice if Anzu had a partner, barring her kissing said partner right in front of the useless boy.

“Hey,” he protests.

“You didn’t notice _Ino_ dating you.”

When he gets embarrassed, his whole face goes red. His skin isn’t as dark as Anzu’s, and even with all that red, it doesn’t approach that beautiful warm shade. “I told you, that _wasn_ _’t_ a date!”

One of the librarians hushes them both, and they have to wait for him to move to a group of stressed-looking Academy students before continuing their conversation, this time at a lower volume.

“Maybe the _first time_ wasn’t. What’s your excuse for the second time?”

“Missions shouldn’t count as dates,” he grumbles, which is his standard line and complete bullshit.

Since Tsuru has educated him, many, many times on why this opinion is wrong, she ignores his petulance. “Who else knows Anzu? Do you know who her genin teammates were?”

“No idea and no. Now let me read this.” He tries to wave her off like she’s some kind of pest.

In revenge, Tsuru comes around the table and drapes herself over his back, settling her chin on his head and reading the file from this vantage point.

“What’re you supposed to be getting out of that?”

Riku shrugs, not moving his head. That’s how Tsuru knows he loves and adores her. “Nao will quiz us on anything in here. We need to know what’s wrong, why she’s getting the surgery, what it’ll do, what her recovery will look like… She might ask us about the risks, why she’s doing surgery and not something else, whatever.”

Tsuru makes a sympathetic noise. “Sounds tough. And you signed up for this?”

“Well, yeah.” He turns his head slowly, giving her a chance to back off and meet his eyes. “I want to help people. Not that working in the hospital isn’t doing that, but this is…more.”

Riku is the kind of person who wants _more_. “Is that why it bugs you that Mariko’s helping in the surgery?”

“We started at the _same time_ ,” he repeats himself, with the same frustration in his voice. “I just don’t get why Honda-sensei thinks she’s better than me.”

Tsuru whistles. “Wow. _Wow_.”

“What?”

“Honda-san is a jounin, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” The petulant tone tells her that he knows where she’s going with this and doesn’t approve.

She goes on anyway. “So when did you get promoted, if you think you know better than her?”

He huffs and looks away. “It isn’t like that. I know Mariko’s good. But Honda-sensei picked her and not me, and it seems like, no matter what I do, I’ll never convince her I’m good enough.”

“Do you need to?”

Brows furrowed, head tilted, he looks like a confused little puppy. That almost makes all the whining a bit cute. Almost. “What?”

“Do you _need_ Honda-san to think you’re better than Mariko? Like, what does that even do for you?”

He looks like she smacked him with a tree branch, leaves and all.

“Besides,” she goes on, “who cares about Mariko? You need to be helping me get a date with Anzu.”

Riku recovers and shakes his head slowly. “Why would I do that? And why would you even want my help? You said I’m useless at dating!”

He doesn’t quite shout that last part, but he’s loud enough that they both pause to look for the librarian. Thankfully, the man is still helping those Academy students, so Tsuru just shrugs and perches on the library table, swinging her legs.

“You are, but you also know Anzu. You see her _every day_. You can be my wingman, talk me up. You know. Tell her how great I am, things like that.”

“Uh, no. That would be weird.”

“You _owe me_. Remember?”

She knows he remembers, and he knows she knows he remembers, but there’s a long moment where he looks tempted to deny it. Then he sighs. “Alright, fine. I don’t know about all of that, but I can…see if she’s single.”

“You see her every day, right?” He nods. “Great! Let me tag along.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Not a chance.”

///

She gives him a couple days to lay the groundwork, then follows him to his afternoon tutoring session. Conveniently, these take place in the library; inconveniently, as they walk in, Anzu is engaged in a conversation with the same librarian who shushed them before.

Riku doesn’t so much _allow_ her to come with as he fails to shake her off. When they both clock the conversation, he raises his eyebrows at Tsuru, lips pressed together in a half-assed attempt to hide his grin. Tsuru sneers at him and then shoves him forward, her human shield against a possibly-irate librarian.

Anzu spots them and turns another dimples-and-eye-crinkles smile on them. Tsuru feels her face heat up. She thinks she smiles back. The librarian wanders off; Tsuru could not care less about him.

“Hello again, Kuroishi-san,” Anzu says, and Tsuru wants to pout at the formality of it. “Riku, we’re going to go over that review.”

Riku sighs and gestures at Tsuru. “She’s interested, too. I promised she could sit in. If you don’t mind, I mean.” He’s getting a little better; _Tsuru_ knows this is bullshit by his twitch and glance to the side, as if he needs confirmation that she’ll back this play, but Anzu seems to buy it.

She lights up. “Oh! Of course! I don’t mind at all if you don’t, Riku. Do you have a medical background, Kuroishi-san?”

Riku, for all his failings, isn’t _terrible_. He cuts in with, “If she’s going to study with us, you _have_ to call her Tsuru,” and he says it with the particular snottiness only a thirteen-year-old can get away with. Tsuru could kiss his head. (She wouldn’t; unlike most other stressed genin she knows, he takes dips in the river to calm down, but she’s not sure he ever brings _soap_. He can get really picky about other people’s funk, but Hatake Riku is not immune to the way the human nose filters out his own smell.)

(Anzu’s hair looks like it would smell good. Tsuru’s only a little tempted to lean in and check.)

Anzu gives in to Riku and says, “Tsuru-san, then,” and it’s a step.

///

By the end of the fourth hour, Tsuru’s about ready to murder Riku.

Anzu is not only gorgeous, but also _smart_ ; she stops to explain things to Tsuru, or has Riku try to explain them, but it’s still four hours of intense studying. They go over _everything_. This Chihiro person’s entire medical history is now drilled into Tsuru’s brain. Anzu quizzes Riku on the woman’s condition, her height, weight, and other basic data, procedures done to her last year and the previous year and even _when she was a child_ , then makes him explain why all of that is relevant to this surgery. Tsuru knows that multiple surgeries happen each day; surely they can’t all need this level of scrutiny?

Riku has the whole thing memorized, of course, though Anzu’s questions stump him a few times. A couple times, he recovers and gives her an adequate answer; sometimes, though, he has to sigh and admit defeat.

Tsuru has no answers. Neither of them asks her for any, and that makes her feel even worse. She’s _four years_ older than Riku, he shouldn’t be able to show her up this badly!

Then Anzu has Riku teach Tsuru about the musculature system, which she already knows, and how it relates to the chakra system, which she only sort-of remembers from Mizuki-sensei’s lectures. Anzu cuts in to correct Riku a handful times. (Tsuru counts to five because the sour look on Riku’s face each time is hilarious, but she stops when he starts to look like a kicked puppy.)

At the end of _that_ , Anzu glances out a window and says, “That’s our session for today. Riku, we’ll be moving on to diseases next; here are some texts to start reading.” _Some texts_ turns out to mean _ten scrolls_. Some of them are thick enough to classify as projectile weapons. “Tsuru-san, you’re more than welcome to share, although I only have the readings for Riku…”

“She can help me,” Riku says. Tsuru does not like the way he’s smiling. “We’ll share.”

Anzu packs up and, with one last smile, leaves. Riku waits for her to leave earshot, then hands Tsuru half the scrolls. In his defense, he’s scrupulously fair about the size of them, giving her the same number of thick ones as he takes for himself.

“Why are you giving me homework,” Tsuru asks, flat and offended at the very idea.

Riku’s eyes go wide and innocent, which he must have picked up from a friend with a rounder, cuter face; on him, it almost but doesn’t quite work. “Look, you want to spend time with her, right? Well, she spends _half her day_ here tutoring me.”

“Okay…”

“ _So_ ,” he says, with pointed patience, “if you’re helping me, you can get that time with her. _But_ , if you don’t take it seriously, neither will she, right?”

Tsuru considers. “Alright, fine. You’re sure this will impress her?”

She likes the smile he gives her now even less than the last one. “I’m positive.”

///

She should’ve cut Riku more slack in his irritation with Mariko. Tsuru hasn’t even met the chick, but there is _no way_ she’s more committed than Riku.

Riku has figured out a jutsu to put himself to sleep and a seal-based alarm clock that wakes him up at an exact point in his sleep cycle, which he generously shares with her. This is key, because he wakes up at a ridiculous time, does morning exercises, makes breakfast, and then wants to talk about the readings before their morning shift. At lunch, they swap and skim the other one’s reading before Anzu turns up, and then they get _brutally tested_ on the combined material.

Anzu is nice enough to ask which readings they read before testing them, but that’s all. She knows, just off the top of her head, whether their answers are right, wrong, or complete bullshit. Tsuru learns, very quickly, that an _I don_ _’t know_ is miles better than making something up.

She does not like how disappointment fits on Anzu’s face.

After, Riku wanders off to, in his words, “hit things,” and she knows that he finds time to eat and read one of his scrolls before bedtime because he’s ready to start over again the next day.

Tsuru’s brain is exhausted. She didn’t study this hard before her _Chuunin Exam_. And they aren’t even reaping any rewards for their hard work (beyond Anzu’s presence and her smiles and praise when they get answers right), because, as far as Tsuru can tell, Honda Nao never actually _interacts_ with Riku.

(Some of the vocabulary is beyond him, she realizes when he struggles to explain one of the longer scrolls to her. She’s never thought of him as someone who doesn’t ask for help, but the shamed flush on his face is awful to look at.

She puzzles out the hiragana she can, and when Anzu starts quizzing them, Tsuru unfurls the scroll and points at the first term she couldn’t figure out. Once Anzu knows the problem, she goes through it with them both—without asking Riku if _he_ knows the answer, for which Tsuru is thankful. The kid’s pride couldn’t take the hit.)

Whatever Mariko’s doing, she can’t be putting in the kind of hours Riku and Tsuru are.

It takes a month for Anzu to drop the honorific. It’s another few weeks after that before Anzu says, “You two will be shadowing Nao-sensei tomorrow, along with Mariko.”

Riku’s eyes shine. Happiness sits oddly on him, makes him look his age for once. Tsuru blames this for why she tugs him into her side and runs her knuckles over the top of his head. He could easily get out of her hold, but he just sputters and laughs, pushing ineffectually at her.

Anzu laughs, too; she snorts with it, and Tsuru catches her eyes and then laughs harder, which finally gets them kicked out of the library. (Anzu’s still smiling as she apologizes to the librarian.)

///

“She shouldn’t be here,” are the first words Nishimori Mariko says in Tsuru’s hearing. Mariko has her hair in a messy ponytail, barrettes with little yellow flowers keeping it out of her face. Her eyes are blue and cold as the winter sky outside, and the look on her face is somewhere between “walked into a room with eight-day-old takeout on the counter” and “just assigned to babysit the Hokage’s grandson.”

Tsuru leans into Riku. “I see why you want to beat her.”

Riku snorts.

Anzu steps forward. “Nao-sensei, Tsuru has been studying along with Riku for months.” A generous exaggeration, there. “And she’s been working as an intern here for over a year.” True enough; the hospital is a very regular gig, and Tsuru likes regular paychecks that don’t involve weeding irritating civilians’ yards. Plus, now, all her friends work here, too. “She won’t get in the way, and I think it will help Riku if she’s here.”

Honda Nao doesn’t have enough hair to worry about it falling in her face: it’s just longer than buzzed, and blonde enough not to stand out from her pale skin. Her one good eye is a piercing green-gray, and she looks more intimidating than all the librarians and every teacher Tsuru’s ever disappointed rolled into one no-nonsense body.

She can’t be any taller than Tsuru, might even be an inch shorter, but she somehow projects an aura of authority. If she says no, Tsuru will walk out the door, no questions asked. She’ll hate it, but she’ll do it, because this isn’t the kind of woman you argue with.

She doesn’t say no. She looks Tsuru up and down, then turns her gaze on Riku, then Anzu. “If you vouch for her,” she says, “she’s your responsibility. Nishimori, Hatake, follow and observe.”

For the rest of the day, Honda doesn’t so much as glance at Tsuru; she quizzes Riku and Mariko on seemingly everything: the patients they’re seeing, diseases, medical conditions, the names of various bones, previous patients, tendons and muscles and nerves, the various bodily systems and how they relate to one another, historically-significant patients and their conditions…

When one falters, the other jumps in. Tsuru rarely knows the answer before one of them supplies it, but she does get in a couple. Honda doesn’t acknowledge these, but Anzu smiles at her and Riku gives her a high-five—and Honda doesn’t direct the question to either of the two, as she does when they don’t answer. That’s acknowledgment, of a sort.

Mariko knows her material: Tsuru keeps an absentminded tally, and Mariko’s just slightly ahead, hovering around six-four on average. She doesn’t rub it in their faces when she gets a correct answer, merely nods with this private little smile. Riku, in turn, only shares his grins with Tsuru, not crowing about his victories.

(Tsuru has _seen_ this kid make some of the other intern-genin sorry to ever challenge him, but either something’s different about Mariko or he doesn’t dare try that in front of Honda.)

They follow Honda on her rounds, sitting in as she checks in with patients from the previous night, then discusses all the cases with the other doctors (some tokujou, some jounin, a couple chuunin with extensive civilian training) before heading off to appointments. Some of those are simple enough that Tsuru could handle them; some are simple check-ins that _anyone_ with minimal training could handle. A lot are more complex, some too much for Tsuru to keep track of. (They all have clipboards for notes; Riku scribbles his normal incomprehensible code, while Mariko seems to have a code of her own. Tsuru does her best and figures she and Riku will compare notes later.)

They scarf down “lunch” in between patients at around two. By the time they leave at the end of the day, it’s been dark for three hours or more.

“Get some sleep,” Anzu tells them in the lobby; Honda is having another round-table, this time with all the jounin-sensei whose apprentices came today. “Mariko, Honda will debrief with you tomorrow at the normal time. Tsuru, Riku, we’ll debrief tomorrow instead of your morning shift. Riku.” And she levels a stern look at him. “Skip your exercises tomorrow and get a full night’s sleep.”

He flushes and grumbles about this, but his ears don’t go red, so he must not be too embarrassed.

Shockingly, it’s Mariko who protests. “But, Anzu-senpai,” she says, and when they all look at her, goes even redder than Riku. “We all observed. We should debrief together.”

Anzu blinks at her. Then glances at Riku, only to blink at Mariko some more. “The arrangement…”

“Made sense,” Mariko says, “when Hatake was still learning how to _read_. And passing out.”

Tsuru whirls on him. “You _what_?”

This time, even his ears go red. “I haven’t done it that much!”

Mariko clears her throat primly. “As I was saying, when he didn’t have control, it made sense. That’s no longer the case. I believe.” She looks at him, as if his response has given her doubts. Then she turns to Anzu again. “If he’s not Honda-sensei’s student, it isn’t fair to say he is. If he _is_ , he ought to be working with her.”

With a sigh, Anzu says, “That’s kind of you to say, but Nao-sensei doesn’t actually have time to devote to two students. The compromise was never just for one reason.”

Mariko folds her arms across her chest. “Then split up the training so he and I are _both_ with Honda-sensei and we’re _both_ with you.”

“Hey,” Riku says, _raising his hand_ like he needs permission to speak. (Sometimes, he’s annoying; sometimes, he’s just adorable.) “What about Tsuru?”

Mariko gives her a skeptical look. “Honda-sensei didn’t agree to train her,” she says, slowly.

“I did,” Anzu says. “I’ll speak to Nao-sensei about this. For now, however, let’s stick to the plan.” She pauses, then says, “It was very kind of you to speak up on Riku’s behalf, Mariko.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not _kind_. It just wasn’t fair.”

“Still.” And Anzu leaves it at that, waving them all off so she gets the last word.

Until they get outside, anyway. The streetlights around here are bright enough that Tsuru can see Mariko’s expression flit from blankness to surprise to suspicion and back to blankness when Riku grabs her arm.

“Anzu was right,” he tells her. “You didn’t have to say anything, and you did anyway. Thanks.”

It must kill him a little to say it; Tsuru doubts his attitude has done a sudden one-eighty on her in the last ten minutes. He sounds sincere, though, and lets go of her to bow, with careful politeness.

Mariko looks jaundiced in the yellow streetlight. “It wasn’t about _you_ ,” she tells him. “It’s just not fair. That’s all it was. We’re not friends.”

Riku rises. Tsuru might be reading into things, but even the back of his head looks affronted. “I didn’t say anything about friends.”

“Okay. Good. Because we’re not.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He sighs, waves a hand. “See you around, Mariko.” Then he looks over his shoulder at Tsuru. “Normal time?”

“Sure.” There’s zero chance that he’ll _actually_ skip his morning exercises, but since Tsuru doesn’t meet up with him until after he’s done, she can truthfully tell Anzu that she doesn’t know, if it comes up.

///

The solution, it turns out, is that Riku loses his morning shift to join Mariko with Honda, and then the two grab lunch and meet up with Anzu and Tsuru in the library. Tsuru keeps _her_ shift, because her rent isn’t too bad, but she still has to pay it. The major difference is that, now, Anzu releases the kids about an hour and a half before she used to let Riku leave, and those ninety minutes are now all Tsuru’s.

She tries not to think of them as study-dates, but Anzu sits on the same side of the table and sometimes leans into her space, and her hair _does_ smell nice.

Things proceed nicely for a solid month like that, and then Riku, the little shit, offers her dinner at his place and, when she’s full and weak, asks her, “Have you made a move yet? Or did she say no?”

He’s just sour because Ino broke up with him (she heard about one fight and it sounded ugly; normal couples don’t escalate into calling each other weak or immoral, but these are baby teenagers who don’t know better). She knows this, but the edge in his tone still rubs her the wrong way.

She’s older and more mature, though, so she takes a deep, educational breath, makes a show of exhaling slowly. “No, I haven’t asked her out.”

“What’s keeping you?”

The look of disappointment that she still sometimes earns. The worry that Tsuru’s just imagining how Anzu’s eyes light up at the start of their sessions. There’s always an innocent explanation for the way Anzu’s arm presses against hers, or how her feet sometimes bump Tsuru’s under the table, or the small touches as they’re reviewing dense scrolls. Tsuru could be—is, _must_ be—reading too much into it.

As far as Tsuru can tell, there’s no boyfriend _or_ girlfriend, although Anzu has mentioned a pet fish several times. Its name is Bubbles, and her dimples come out when she talks about it. Tsuru feels an irrational fondness for a fish she has never actually seen.

“Hey, you know about fish, don’t you?” she asks, ignoring Riku’s question and his raised eyebrows.

“A little. I grew up on an _island_. What do you want to know?”

“What kind of present do you get for someone with one?”

Riku tilts his head, expression going distant as he thinks. He leans back against the window, curled up in a window-seat that doesn’t really match anything else in the kitchen. “You could get her something for the aquarium, I guess, or maybe something with a fish on it. Do you know what kind of fish it is?”

She shakes her head, then passes along all the descriptions Anzu’s ever given her about it. Halfway through, his eyebrows go up. By the time she finishes, he’s obviously biting back laughter.

“Okay, _one_ ,” he says around a chuckle, “you have a problem. You remembered all of _that_?”

“If you don’t pay attention when the girl you like is talking,” she snipes back, “it’s no wonder Ino broke up with you.”

He sobers quickly and looks away, making a face. She takes pity on him after a few seconds of painfully awkward silence. “What’s two?”

“Huh? Oh.” He sits up straighter, focusing on her rather than whatever’s in his head. “She has a betta. You could get her something for the fish, like a fake plant or something, or you could look for something for her.” He shrugs. “I don’t know about around here, but back on the Islands, there’s shirts with fish designs, or jewelry or whatever.”

“That’s not really helpful.”

He shrugs. “It’s all I’ve got. Why do you need a present, anyway?”

This time, she doesn’t poke at the sore spot of his breakup, she just lets her raised eyebrows do the talking. He gets it, because he holds his hands up in surrender and gets up to clean the dishes.

///

Mariko takes to viruses and fungal infections like she was born with the grossest diagnosis chart in her head. Riku starts focuses on the kinds of injuries you see more in combat: blunt-force trauma, tissue damage, incisions, penetration wounds…

Tsuru, meanwhile, is still drowning in the basics of anatomy. (“Not the basics,” Anzu reproaches her when she says this out loud. “Academy students study the basics. We’re well past that. This is complex, Tsuru, and you’re doing well.” Tsuru doesn’t believe her but appreciates the effort.) Then, in a rare but otherwise unremarkable morning meet-up, Riku starts talking about taking on a Chuunin Exam, and she chokes when she realizes he means _with her_.

“What?” He blinks at her, and he’s finally mastered that wide-eyed innocent look. “You’ve taken it before, right? Don’t you want to make chuunin?”

Tsuru wants to make rent and Anzu smile at her, and that’s about it.

“Besides,” she says, “you need three people for a team. Weren’t you going to go with—oh.” He was gonna team up with Ino and her other teammate, since their third already promoted, but. Awkward.

His expression closes off. “Well. Yeah. There’s another team—but I don’t get along with them as well, so I just thought…”

“You thought two people with medical training could take on an exam that focuses on strategy and combat?”

Red dusts his cheeks, and he bites his lip.

She considers him. “Riku. Who else were you thinking about asking?”

“I still don’t like her,” he bursts out, “but she’s _good_.”

Tsuru groans. “Riku.”

“I heard she got pretty far the first time!”

“You can’t be serious.”

He leans forward. “I think we could do it.”

“Go check yourself in and get away from me. I don’t want to catch whatever it is you have.”

He lets it drop after that, but he doesn’t let it _go_. During their group sessions, she can feel him staring at her sometimes.

She knows he’s serious about it, though, when he brings her a betta-inspired kimono that looks right about Anzu’s size.

“I don’t need _you_ to get me presents for Anzu,” she tells him. (With the kimono safely in her arms. It’s an extravagant gift that Riku didn’t even think about because he’s _Hatake Riku_ , but if Tsuru times it right, it won’t be too awkward.) “And I don’t take bribes.”

“Just consider it,” he tells her. “Mariko and I are going on a long-term mission. We won’t be back for a while, but the next Chuunin Exam’s in Mist, and the one after that will be that joint thing with Sand.”

“Oh, joy,” Tsuru mutters. “Traitors, or bloodthirsty murderers. What’ll you do if she says no?”

He fakes confidence less convincingly than he fakes innocence. “I have a plan. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

“And we’ll be even for this?” She hefts the kimono, not getting anywhere close enough for him to take it back.

He blinks, visibly thrown. “What? No. I owe you from before, remember?”

Had he owed her _two_ favors? She doesn’t even remember, but if he says so.

“I think we’re good enough friends,” she says carefully, “not to keep track of favors like that.”

His smile is almost as good as one of Anzu’s. “I think so too.”

At fourteen, he’s less obnoxious than at thirteen, so he doesn’t verbalize the “and, _as my friend_ , won’t you consider going to the Chuunin Exam with me?” that he’s clearly thinking.

She sighs. “I’ll think about it. Stay safe on your mission, okay? Long-term ones are no joke.” Most of the hospital traffic that isn’t training-related is from long-term missions, especially higher-ranked ones.

Any mission that requires _two_ genin with medical training is up there; a difficult C-rank, or even a B-rank.

With a grin, he says, “I can handle it,” and then he’s off. They say their real goodbyes later, with Mariko and Anzu, and Tsuru gets a couple more details, but nothing sounds too bad: they’re heading off to a northern outpost (Riku scowls and mutters about the weather, which pries a smile out of Mariko) in response to some kind of annoying but nonfatal outbreak, and they’ll be gone for a few weeks, maybe even a couple months.

When they leave, Tsuru says, tentatively, “Riku’s been talking about the Chuunin Exam.”

Anzu goes still for a second, then smiles. “You, too? He asked me what mine was like a few weeks ago.”

“He asked me to be on his team.”

Anzu’s smile doesn’t drop. If anything, it deepens. “Well. I hope you’ll consider it. Teamwork and trust are critical elements that many people overlook. If you go with a pickup team, it can cause problems.”

“Huh. You think we’d actually have a shot?”

“I think,” Anzu says, delicately, “that taking the exam as a team of medic-nin would get your team a lot of attention. Even if you failed, I don’t doubt that some medic-nin would take you on.”

Tsuru tries not to scowl at the thought of their study sessions ending. “Well, I was already leaning toward no. I guess he’ll have to find someone else.”

A pause. Anzu takes a deep breath. “Tsuru,” she says. “If you were someone _else_ _’s_ student…” And she doesn’t say anything more.

Her knee bumps into Tsuru’s, under the table. Her hand follows, a quick, careful brush, with absolutely no pressure. Tsuru feels it like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh. _Oh_. Uh.” She blinks; her face feels too hot. She starts to say, “I could quit _right now_ ,” before she thinks that statement through.

One of the _first damn things_ Riku told her about Anzu was that Anzu takes being a medic-nin seriously. She’s always taken _Tsuru_ seriously, but if Tsuru just suddenly dropped out, well. That wouldn’t really impress Anzu, now would it?

“I could—I think I need to start training,” she says instead.

Anzu’s smile is brilliant. “I think that’s a great idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: the content warning: Tsuru (17) is attracted to Anzu (18), and in an effort to spend time with her, begins studying alongside Riku. This makes Anzu Tsuru's mentor. Toward the end of the chapter, Anzu implies that she can't/won't be available for a relationship with Tsuru as long as Tsuru is her student, which prompts Tsuru to decide to take the Chuunin Exam with Riku.
> 
> This is the lead-up to the mini-sequel, which I am writing at a pace basically directly proportional to how much I do not want to grade things. (I'm almost halfway done with the mini-sequel, folks.) As a reminder, I have a [DreamWidth](https://heraldaros.dreamwidth.org/) where I update the sticky post with my writing progress; the planned revisions for this series and occasional teasers also live there.


	8. cat's in the cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi comes back to Konoha to find his students gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really many content warnings here (besides Kakashi making bad decisions re: sleep); mentions of death as a potential outcome of events, and some implications here and there, but that's it.
> 
> This takes place **between Chapter 17 and the epilogue** of _Becoming Ninja_ , and therefore is set months before the start of _take violent things_.

Kakashi gets back from his mission in the dead of night and, feeling foolishly paranoid, checks on his nephew and Naruto instead of going straight to his bed.

Tsunade, unlike Sarutobi, doesn’t stay in the Hokage’s office until the early hours of the morning. Unless the matter is urgent, or the mission was S-rank, or the returning nin is ANBU, debrief can wait until morning. Genin, of course, must always check in at the gate, but Kakashi hasn’t checked in for a solo mission since he was younger than his students.

Protocol recommends a physical after all B-rank missions, or in the case of injury, physical or chakra exhaustion, or exposure to genjutsu or poison. Kakashi’s latest mission was B-rank. The enemy tried to use genjutsu. He’s running on five hours of sleep, and that was almost two days ago. (Forty hours, but who’s counting?) He doesn’t report to the hospital; Tsunade, unlike Sarutobi, takes great joy in bullying her ninja into medical treatment, and who is Kakashi to deprive his Hokage of life’s little pleasures?

Naruto and Riku’s apartment is locked, windows all shut, no lights on. Kakashi might have left it at that. But Riku was kidnapped outside this apartment not that long ago, and Akatsuki is still after Naruto, and something feels…off. The room doesn’t look right. Kakashi slips the bedroom window open.

Bed and mattress both made up neatly, undisturbed. The scents in the room are all stale, fading. Kakashi flits over to the light switch to verify what looks off in the darkness: some of the boys’ things are missing. Kakashi takes an inventory:

Riku’s pictures: still here. Scarves: accounted for, unless Riku picked up new ones (although he already has half a dozen—how many does one boy need? Kakashi has that many masks, and unless he gets blood on one, that’s more than enough). Jackets: check and check. Boots: there, tucked just under the bed. Sandals: missing. Shorts: missing. Shirts: mostly missing, what few are left either stained or long-sleeved. Underthings: zero evidence they ever existed. Weapons: unaccounted for. Scrolls: stacked on top of Naruto’s desk.

Naruto’s team picture: still here. Jumpsuits: missing. Shirts and pants: also missing. Underthings: nonexistent. Sandals: gone. Weapons: nope. Sleeping cap: placed deliberately on top of the pillow on the bed.

In the kitchen: no instant ramen, but that could just be Riku’s influence. The fridge is _empty_ , not just of perishables. The cupboards fared slightly better: there’s a container of dry rice, the beginnings of a spice collection, some cans of soup. Kakashi’s seen worse (he’s _lived_ with worse), but this doesn’t look like a kitchen currently in use by two teenaged boys, one of whom can cook. Kakashi dips his fingers in the pots of Naruto’s plants. The soil is damp, watered the previous day.

A mission? A mission for _both_ Naruto (lack of ramen) and Riku (lack of any other perishable food), that they knew would take them out of the village for—weeks, judging by the food situation? After the invasion, Konoha needs to appear strong, so Tsunade has handed out back-to-back missions for all ninja from ANBU down to genin, but…

Naruto is the Kyuubi jinchuuriki. Unless Jiraiya’s there to guarantee his safety (and the safety of everyone around him), Kakashi finds it unlikely Naruto would be sent out on a mission for even a day, let alone a longer period. Riku, while determined, is not qualified for most missions outside Konoha, even the missions Naruto _is_ qualified for. _Especially_ the missions that would take Naruto out of Konoha for any length of time.

A mission seems unlikely for either of them and unthinkable for both, and yet, they packed what they would need for a trip.

Kakashi makes his second stop (via the window, which he closes behind him): Sakura’s family home. He doesn’t intrude—her parents are fellow ninja, and while Kakashi could slip past their defenses, he’s coming off a long mission, he’s been awake for the last forty hours, and his mind is spinning nightmare scenarios for why his nephew and Naruto seem to be missing.

If there was ever a time when he would make a mistake and get caught, it’d be now, and he’d prefer that not happen in his teenage student’s bedroom.

Still, through the window he can see that Sakura isn’t in her bed. If her room is also missing items, he can’t tell from a distance, but that’s less important.

Tense as hell now, Kakashi moves on to Sasuke’s house. The Uchiha district only makes him more nervous—as always, there’s a palpable air of contamination, like Itachi’s actions made even the spirit of the land here rot. If Kakashi could have pried Sasuke out of it, he would have—a long-term plan forced to the back of his mind by other, more pressing matters.

Now, he regrets that.

Unlike the other rooms, Sasuke’s does look wrecked and picked over. Kakashi recognizes ANBU technique, and the standard jounin and chuunin lack thereof. He doesn’t recognize the medley of smells that have traipsed through here, although the number and intensity suggest that multiple teams have spent quite a bit of time in the room.

Retracing steps? Trying to figure something out? The room doesn’t smell like Sasuke at all. Whatever clues were here are gone now.

Kakashi goes—not to the Hokage, who might have answers but certainly won’t want to be woken up. He goes to Gai’s apartment, knocks on the window—even in his state, Kakashi knows better than to startle a jounin awake; he respects Gai’s abilities and has no desire to see them first-hand right now—then slips in when the shape on the bed shifts.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed when Gai sits up, eyes focusing quickly, wide in the moonlight. He means to say something cool, like “I leave the village for a week and all my students disappear,” or “Is Konoha missing something?”

What comes out of his mouth is, “They’re all gone?” His voice doesn’t crack, which is the only reassurance.

The moon, traitor that it is, lights Gai’s face softly, in perfect complement to the softness of his eyes and mouth when he breathes, “Oh, Kakashi,” like his heart is breaking. Like he knows _Kakashi_ _’s_ heart is breaking, and it hurts him.

“What happened?” And there’s the crack.

Gai doesn’t motion him to sit; Kakashi is rigid, at attention. He’ll fly apart if he’s anything else. These are his students, his _team_. Gai just sits up straighter, clears his throat, and begins with Sasuke and Sakura.

It isn’t a long story. By the end of it, Kakashi can breathe normally, can unbend enough to sit next to Gai’s knee. (These legs once crossed Fire Country in record-breaking time, but never again. Gai can still run, but not like before. Can still fight, defend himself. Can still teach, because unlike Kakashi, all Gai’s students are still in the village. Gai has never failed, as a ninja _or_ as a teacher.)

“They will return,” Gai says with certainty.

He means Riku and Naruto. Maybe he means more than that. Kakashi can’t believe more than that, wants desperately to be sure of more than that—what would Sensei think, that he’s failed two of his students so utterly they’ve gone off to seek training elsewhere, or else been taken, both of them, so soon after Riku was? That Kakashi failed to be there for Minato’s own son, to the point where Jiraiya has stepped in to take over?

Can he even count it as his own victory that Sakura and Sasuke seem to have disappeared together, or did that happen despite him?

And what Riku’s mother must think of him now, if Riku’s told her even a fraction of what’s happened to and around him these last few months…

“Nothing will change tonight,” Gai says, gently, after a long silence. He must think Kakashi is ready to listen; Gai mastered this patience years ago. Kakashi meets his gaze and sees no tiredness in it, no irritation, no judgment. “Would you like some curry, or some tea?”

The curry would be strongly-flavored, to wake Gai up; making it would take enough time for Kakashi to process, to be able to put what’s in his head into words. The tea, he knows from experience, will be a calming brew, _not_ strongly-flavored, and Gai will sleepily provide as many cups of it as Kakashi needs to knock out.

He’s never caught Gai at it, but he suspects Gai laces his blend for these nights with something. A registered jounin could get his hands on all sorts of chemicals that might work, and some of them would even be undetectable if administered in tea. Whether Gai would see that as a breach of trust or a necessary step to helping Kakashi deal with his problems, though, Kakashi isn’t sure.

Maybe the tea itself is just that soothing. It never works when Kakashi brews it for himself, but Gai _is_ better at making tea than he is. (Better at tea, better at teaching.)

“Tea,” he says. Gai’s right. Nothing will change tonight; he’s already late—and what irony is that—too late to do anything about any of the situations his students and nephew are in.

Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it, a clearer mind to weigh his options. He’s sure he has them, but right now, they’re elusive; all he can think about is that no one in Konoha knows where his students are, and Kakashi can’t do anything about it.

///

Kakashi declines Tsunade’s offer to authorize a trip to Destiny Islands. The fewer ninja going there, the safer the Islands will be; two genin hardly rate the kind of attention that Kakashi will bring, just with his presence.

If Sasuke and Sakura are truly with Orochimaru, it’s possible one of them is his new vessel. According to Jiraiya’s latest intelligence, Orochimaru needs a new one approximately every three years, which might be why he took both. Sakura wouldn’t have interested him, but as an insurance policy, as bait, as a potential hostage… He might have decided she was worth whatever extra risk or inconvenience it cost to bring her to Sound. She might have even sacrificed herself to buy Sasuke more time.

If Sasuke and Sakura aren’t with Sound, it’s possible they’re in Cloud; the Raikage would happily commit murder to get a Sharingan and wouldn’t bat an eye if bringing Sasuke to his village meant taking Sakura as well. Whether they went willingly or were kidnapped is immaterial. If they’re in Cloud, Sasuke’s still a target for Orochimaru, but at least they’re probably treated well.

Akatsuki might have taken them, although that theory is flimsy at best, mostly predicated on Itachi’s membership with the organization and his recent sighting in Konoha.

(They might not have left the village at all. Does Tsunade know what Danzo’s capable of? Root is supposed to have disbanded, but that was under Sarutobi. Maybe this is Danzo’s opening salvo.)

The other options—that some unknown party took one or both; that one or both left Konoha for some other destination; that one of them was taken by Sound, Cloud, or Akatsuki and the other is currently in pursuit—are slim chances at best, and all disastrous. If Sasuke and Sakura aren’t together, it’s very, very likely that Sakura will wind up dead. If they _are_ together, that’s still one of the likelier outcomes.

Jiraiya and Naruto are off scouting around Fire Country. Kakashi weighs his options and takes an A-rank mission to Frost Country; when he’s done with that, he’ll be close enough to hop over the border and see what he can find in Lightning Country.

And, if he takes a little longer getting back, maybe finds some time to train his own Sharingan, Tsunade won’t complain. Not unless he gets sloppy, and Hatake Kakashi is many things, but sloppy isn’t one of them.

Gai sees him off with disapproval. Instead of a lecture, though, he just asks, “Is there anything you’d like me to tell your nephew?”

Kakashi thinks about it. “If he’s still committed to becoming a ninja without killing anyone, what I told him before is still true, now more than ever.”

“And if he’s changed his mind?” Gai sounds doubtful; he spent more time with Riku than Kakashi did, and even Kakashi knows there’s little chance that recent events would incline Riku _toward_ bloodshed. More the opposite, really.

“Then I’m disappointed in him, and I’ll be having a word with his mother.”

Gai smiles, briefly, which Kakashi counts as a win. “Come back in one piece,” he says. “You owe me a rematch.”

Kakashi waves a hand, turning his back. “If you say so,” he calls over his shoulder, and then body-flickers away, out of the village in a swirl of leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The promised chapter of _take violent things_ will still be up later this weekend, but I've been poking at this one since amathriel_vallathon asked about it...yikes, over a month ago.
> 
> (I'm also sitting on the Ino story that I think I have finally figured out. It's already 7.7k, but it was missing some scenes, and once I'm happy with it, it'll go up.)
> 
> In other news, I think I know how to proceed with the Chuunin Exam fic, so hopefully there won't be a gap in posting between _take violent things_ and that one. The gameplan is still to get to the KH1 fic by the end of this calendar year (I would adore it if I had enough written to get it up sooner, but. We'll see.)


	9. the smoke and who's left standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ino and Riku: the beginning, the middle, the end. (How do two teenagers have a relationship when the one thing they have in common abandoned them both, and neither of them has really dealt with that? Very poorly, it turns out.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** unhealthy relationship ahoy! There are multiple arguments, some in private and some in public; one escalates to physical violence and that's never addressed by the characters. There's also a mission that involves physical violence on the level of canon. Some mentions of young teenagers making out and under-the-shirt petting, but nothing explicit or past second base.
> 
> Title of the chapter comes from The Fray's "Over My Head (Cable Car)."
> 
> _Timeline:_ mainly between the last chapter of _Becoming Ninja_ through to the Tsuru chapter of this fic. All of this happened before _take violent things_.

Ino has to put up with questioning from her father, a couple ANBU, and the guy who scared the shit out of the genin during the first part of the Chuunin Exam, and after all that, not a single one of them tell her it’s because she was _the last person to see Hatake Riku_.

She figures one of them owes the other a real date when he gets back. She’s not sure which way it should go, but given that Riku’s been kidnapped, she’s willing to carry that burden.

Still, Sakura has already proven herself to be a snake and mischief incarnate, so Ino has to be sneaky. Her own teammates aren’t an issue, but if Sakura or Naruto catch wind of the date, they will _for sure_ crash it, just to be annoying jerks.

(Sasuke would never do that to her, of course.)

Ino has every faith that Riku will be returned to the village safe. After all, the Hokage knows who took him—gave that whole speech about it and everything—and Shikamaru isn’t as slick as he thinks he is.

With Shikamaru on the mission, Riku will be back in no time. She tells herself that for a week straight, as she takes a couple of odd missions, some solo, some with just Chouji, some with a combination of others.

She gets to listen to Lee wax rhapsodic over Sakura while they help a civilian find her cat. (It turns up in one of the training grounds, under a partially-collapsed bridge, with a bunch of tabby kittens. Ino’s dad is allergic, and Lee’s tears probably aren’t _just_ from the beautiful miracle of life that they’ve witnessed, so they don’t keep any.)

Shino is okay, if a bit creepy, but Kiba gets on her nerves even more than Naruto. It wouldn’t be so bad if she and Tenten weren’t the only girls left among the Chuunin Exam first-timers; it wouldn’t be so bad if she and Tenten had a bit more in common.

(Tenten and _Chouji_ have eating habits in common, if nothing else. They all go out to Korean barbecue and Chouji looks like he wants to propose either marriage or a blood feud after the third time Tenten snipes most of the meat.

“I’m a growing girl,” she tells them both with a decently-charming smile, and then she flexes her biceps. Ino has never noticed biceps on a woman before, but Tenten looks like she could bench-press as much as Asuma-sensei and then carry a couple people off into the sunset. It’s impressive. Ino never wants to eat with her again, but she could stand some joint training sessions, maybe some one-on-one sparring.)

Anyway, Ino turns out to be right; Riku comes back with his uncle’s team, and Ino collects her winnings from Kiba—making sure to point out to him that he’d technically bet against his _own_ teammate, too, and wouldn’t it be so sad if Hinata heard about that?

She walks away with a tidy little purse _and_ a favor from a loudmouthed idiot who doesn’t think before he speaks. Perfect.

///

Riku doesn’t seem traumatized, but her dad says sometimes these things don’t “manifest in obvious ways,” so Ino decides she’s going to give him a couple weeks.

Then she goes to the training ground where she and Sakura have been sparring every other day since her friend got back, and…Sakura isn’t there.

Ino checks with Iruka-sensei, but Sakura isn’t on any missions. Ino checks with Haruno-san, but Sakura isn’t at home. Ino walks over to the Uchiha district, but despite knowing that ghost stories are for babies and civvies, she can’t make herself walk in.

She’s respecting Sasuke’s privacy. That’s all.

She tries Riku’s apartment, only he’s not there; Iruka-sensei looks worried to see her a second time but tells her readily enough that Riku has a shift at the hospital. There, she finds out that he has a _morning_ shift (good to know), and that he’s normally in the library in the afternoons (also useful information).

Riku hasn’t seen Sakura, either.

Ino tracks down Naruto next, which involves checking far too many training grounds for a loud, obnoxious orange blur. He’s just as useless as every other person she’s asked, though he, of everyone, seems to take her the most seriously. He asks where she’s checked, anyway, and summons an enormous number of clones to go check…everywhere else, from the sound of things.

Ino didn’t even know you _could_ coordinate a village-wide search with clones, but here’s Naruto, dropping everything to do just that. He even spares one to walk around with her, checking anyplace Ino can think of that Sakura might be. The clone is still Naruto: it talks its creator up a whole lot, telling her that of course he’s going to find his teammate, believe it! But it doesn’t crowd into her space, and Ino can focus on her annoyance at his voice, his words, his volume, with no mental room left over for her worry.

///

They don’t find Sakura.

Even the ANBU don’t find her.

They don’t find any trace of her—no note, no evidence she left willingly, no evidence she was _taken_ ; they don’t even find…

They don’t find any trace of her.

///

Everyone checks in with Ino except Naruto and Riku, who are too busy dealing with one another to remember _Sakura_ _’s best friend_.

It’s okay. It’s fine. Who cares? Not her, that’s for sure.

Once Naruto leaves, on a training trip with one of the Sannin that no one will shut up about, Riku seems to remember that she exists. He visits her family’s shop on what must be his lunch break.

She has a couple customers, but before she can say anything, he waves at her and wanders off toward the orchid section, his scarf tugged all the way up over his nose from the moment he steps through the door. He hangs out there while she finishes with the young man buying flowers for a grave and the older woman getting a bouquet with a hideous color scheme that she absolutely _insists_ on. (Ino does not say it’s hideous, because kunoichi know how to hold their tongue. But it _is_.)

Finally, the shop clear of customers, Ino announces, “I’m taking my break!” She grabs Riku by the arm, flips the sign on the door to _closed_ , and heads out before her cousin can emerge from the back and ask any questions.

Even once they’re outside, the scarf stays up. She’d critique it, but Konoha is heading into fall, and Riku’s color sense is…bolder than she normally likes in a boy, but not too bad. Blues and yellows work okay with his coloring, although he could go more metallic on the latter and darker on the former, really make his eyes pop, especially with his skin tone.

Or he could just go all black with some dark blue accents for the same effect…

“You holding up okay?” he asks, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on the scenery. Without noticing it, Ino’s started walking toward the training ground she usually meets Sakura at; there’s a cute little bridge over a smaller, slower offshoot of the Nakano River, a nice clear area, and a stand of trees at just the right angle to block the sun during late afternoon training.

Mechanically, she answers, “I’m fine.”

“Mmhm.”

Ino’s mother insisted she talk to a counselor; her father recommended spending more time with her team. Chouji thought she should eat her feelings. Her cousins have many and varied opinions, none of them important.

Riku doesn’t offer any solutions, doesn’t put forth any opinion. When they get to the bridge and she stops, he leans back against one side of it, still present but not in her space.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asks.

He shrugs, looks away. After a long moment, he says, “When I first came here, it was because I hurt a friend of mine. I had to leave, and I haven’t seen him since.” A pause. “I think about him a lot. I’m not sure he knows that. I don’t want him to think I’ve forgotten him, or that I left because I didn’t care about him. I didn’t _want_ to leave, I just…had to.”

Ino snorts and hitches herself up onto the bridge railing opposite Riku. “You’d be terrible at T&I. You’re not any subtler than Naruto, you know that?”

He turns her way, eyes crinkling. “I’m just saying how I feel.”

“Well, I’m sure your friend knows you haven’t forgotten him.”

He cocks his head at her. With his elbows on the railing and his legs stretched out in front of him, he looks… Well, he looks a lot more approachable than Sasuke ever has. The scarf gives him _some_ mystique, and he seems to be buying his shirts a size too small.

After the revelation of Tenten’s biceps, Ino’s been a little hyper-aware of them on _everybody_ lately, and Riku’s are up there. Not Tenten-level, but better than, say, Kiba’s.

“I told Naruto we’re going to get them back,” he says, with the quiet seriousness that has started pervading all their peers. It started when two missing-nin beat up all their teachers, and it’s only gotten worse now that two of their own have disappeared. “It’ll be a lot of work, but I think we can do it.”

“What makes you so sure?” She doesn’t mean to ask that—she means to challenge someone who is practically a stranger to Konoha coming in and telling _her_ that it’ll be ‘a lot of work’ to get her _best friend_ back—but once the words are out of her mouth, she finds she wants an answer to that, too.

“If someone took them,” he says, “they didn’t know what they were messing with. Those two will make their lives _miserable_. If they left…” And his voice lowers, because what that really means is _if they abandoned the village_ , which would make them _missing-nin_. “Well, I don’t think Sakura would go unless she planned to come back. And Sasuke’s got a pretty clear goal. Once that’s done, I think they’ll be back.”

Ino has no idea what he’s talking about, and she used to count herself as Sasuke’s number-one fan. “What’s his goal?”

“Killing his brother.” Riku says it with distaste. “It’ll take him a while to get to that level, so that means we all have time, too.”

“We…do?” She’s lost the thread of the conversation somewhere—right around when Riku got serious and started saying things she doesn’t know about people he’s known for a fraction as long.

“Yep.” And that, that’s a grin, even though she can’t see the bottom half of his face. “His brother ripped through a bunch of jounin, so we all need to get good enough to either help Sasuke take him down or drag him back here after he does it on his own.”

It isn’t a carbon copy of Naruto’s goal, but it’s suspiciously similar. Ino wonders if that’s a communicable disease, if Riku caught this specific ambition from spending too much time with Naruto; at least his version is more palatable, less grating. She doesn’t miss the fact that, unlike most of the dreams that her fellow genin are all so willing to shout about at the top of their lungs, Riku’s is more about the whole group, not just himself.

The part of Ino that’s honed from too much contact with Shikamaru points out that of course Riku’s goal wouldn’t be personal—he doesn’t have the experience, isn’t strong enough on his own. Besides, medic-nin are a support class, not front-line fighters.

“It sounds like you have it all figured out,” she says with relief. It’s nice to know that one person does; it’s even nicer to know that person has figured it out for everyone. Usually, that’s Shikamaru’s job, but he’s off, far away in the north, not here where Ino needs him.

“Well, yeah. Someone has to.” And even though she can’t _see_ the grin, she can _hear_ it, can see the way it makes his eyes light up and his shoulders loosen. Confidence is an attractive look on Riku.

///

Arranging the date takes some doing, mostly because Riku’s single-minded pursuit of his goal happens to mean his days are solidly booked for the foreseeable future. Ino has to bother Iruka-sensei for a solid week to get dibs on a nice, low-stress, low-effort mission for two people, after Riku pleads training on two movie dates and rushes through lunch on the handful of occasions Ino manages to catch him.

(A dinner date is right out, of course, and when Ino idly suggests joining him for training, he raises a skeptical eyebrow and lets her know that he’s training with _Maito Gai_ and _Tenten_.

While Ino would consider paying actual money to see Riku and Tenten spar, _especially_ hand-to-hand, where they’d be all up in each other’s faces and sweaty, the looming specter of Gai-sensei quashes all those thoughts. Just. No. It’s impossible to even think about romance around a man like that, particularly with Lee running around looking like Sakura carved his heart out and took it, still bloody and beating, with her when she left.)

They wind up painting some couple’s house. In the Academy, Iruka-sensei would give them word problems like this: _if you have a kitchen, living room, bedroom, nursery, and two bathrooms, how much paint would you need to cover all the walls? The dimensions for the rooms are_ _…_ In real life, the couple has the paint all picked out and bought, they just don’t want to do the work themselves.

It’s a merchant family, living in a little community not that far out of Konoha; the mission is D-rank, although Iruka-sensei and the chuunin at the gate warn all ninja leaving the village to be on guard, as other villages and even mercenaries may try to take advantage of Konoha’s recent losses.

Ino has a lot of opinions on the colors of paint they’re given. Riku smothers laughter through her ranting during the first room, but by the time they’re looking at the _lemon_ kitchen from the soon-to-be- _grapefruit-colored_ living room, he can’t contain it.

He gets some dark pink paint on his cheek; they’re both down to disposable tank-tops, Ino in leggings and a skirt she doesn’t care about anymore, Riku in pants that already have holes in them and no scarf. Some of the yellow paint got on them both instead of just the walls, and while it at least doesn’t clash with Ino’s hair color, she can’t say the same for Riku’s silver.

As he laughs, paint in his hair and on his face, she realizes that she couldn’t even imagine doing this with Sasuke, and for once, it isn’t a criticism of the person she’s with. She can’t imagine Sasuke agreeing to this kind of mission to begin with, let alone doing it with another person. If he _did_ , he wouldn’t get paint on himself.

He wouldn’t be laughing. Ino usually prefers broody, moody boys—so that, when they smile at you, you _know_ they mean it!—but Riku isn’t like that, not really. He’s a little shy, or maybe just isolated, coming to Konoha right when all the kids his age had just graduated and splintered off, leaving him no opportunity to meet them all at once. He isn’t brash or in-your-face like Naruto or Kiba, but he has the air of self-assurance that made Team Gai so intimidating to the rookies, way back when.

Ordinarily, he’s serious and focused enough that, when he laughs like this, she does feel like he means it, like he isn’t putting up a front around her. And he smiles and laughs around her; she can’t say the same for Sasuke.

Riku, she decides, looks perfectly charming, paint-streaked and in old clothes. _Very_ approachable. No mystique at all, but if Ino plays her cards right, she might be able to get some of the teal paint for the nursery on his arms.

In the end, she gets the teal paint on _her_ arms, but she isn’t complaining; Riku splashed mauve paint for the bedroom all down his front, and once they finish up, he decides that the quickest way to get it off his skin is to hop into the Nakano on their way back to the village.

And then he walks next to her, dripping wet, all the way back. They don’t body flicker; it isn’t a long walk, and the late afternoon is just chilly enough to have an effect on him without being unbearable. She even holds his hand. (A sacrifice, because the mauve stains both their palms but is _far_ more noticeable on her, and she has to put up with her dad making “caught red-handed!” jokes for the next couple days.)

When they’re just out of sight of the gate, she tells him, “This was fun. We should do it again,” and he smiles back at her and says, “Yeah, I’d like that.” It isn’t a proper date until there’s a kiss, so she catches his chin with one of her stained hands and tilts it down.

His lips are warm and soft, not chapped. They both smell like paint despite their best efforts to wash it off; his hands hang at his sides like he isn’t sure what to do with them. She keeps the kiss chaste and pulls away—slowly, so he doesn’t think she regrets it, but firmly, so she doesn’t come across as pushy. When she opens her eyes, his are wide and very blue.

“It’s a date,” she says, still smiling, and he repeats, “Yeah,” in a dazed tone.

///

He doesn’t buy her flowers, which is a solidly commendable move. She would feel obligated to critique any bouquet he brought, and his options are to either go to her family’s competition—ugh—or come to her family’s shop when she isn’t there—double ugh. The _last_ thing she needs is her father getting on her case about her boyfriend.

As far as she’s concerned, her father gets to know she’s dating Riku _after_ he’s proposed, and not a second sooner. She doesn’t have much hope that will _happen_ , but it’s nice to dream.

Instead, Riku makes her things. He isn’t amazing at it or anything, but he’s decent. He asks her what her favorite flower is and carves a recognizable likeness out of wood. He also makes her a _really_ nice travel pack with what he calls “all the essentials,” and which turn out to be “a medic-nin in a bag,” according to Asuma-sensei’s evaluation. There are even a handful of medical jutsu seals, the kind designed to be applied one-handed, under enemy fire, without any chakra to spare.

Those are _not cheap_. (He won’t say how much they’re worth, but Ino hunts some down for herself in the more ninja-oriented markets, and. Wow. When she makes an offhand comment about it, Riku pulls a face and says, “Kakashi gave me access to his money while he’s out of the village,” and changes the subject in a hurry.)

She tries to swing by and see him on his lunch break at least twice a week, but their schedules never work out like that. Sometimes he goes long, sometimes she gets flagged down and asked to join a mission last-minute, sometimes one or both just run out of time before they find one another. Still, they have lunch occasionally, and she holds his hand as she walks him to his afternoon appointment, and they kiss every so often.

He is shy, it turns out; he doesn’t say anything, but he never initiates the kisses, and if they’re in public, he’ll usually pull away or turn his face. It can’t be embarrassment about _her_ , though, because he’s perfectly willing to be seen having lunch with her and holding her hand, and all his friends know they’re dating.

(Ino wishes Sakura were still in the village. _Sakura_ was Riku’s friend, too; she could talk to him and then report back to Ino what the problem is. But when Ino asks, Riku just smiles and says there’s no problem, he’s just busy, or he needs to run, or…whatever, some other excuse, which she accepts because she doesn’t know how to call him on it without it being a fight.)

///

They go on dates—little dates, D-rank missions that Ino manages to talk Riku into, weeding gardens or babysitting brats or finding lost items/pets—pretty much as often as they can. It works out to be about once every couple weeks, between their schedules, which is regular enough for Ino’s mom to start making pointed comments about bringing guests to dinner, and Asuma-sensei to shadow them on one of their “missions” for the sole purpose of trying to freak Riku out.

It doesn’t work, but it _is_ funny for Ino. Every vaguely menacing thing Asuma-sensei says either bounces off Riku or provokes a wide-eyed, interested tangent. When Asuma-sensei pulls out his chakra blades, he gets Riku’s undivided attention for the whole twenty minutes it takes Ino to find their client’s lost bracelet.

Riku holds her hand all the way back to the mission desk, though, so Ino chalks that one up as a win.

///

There’s a fight despite Ino’s best efforts, and it’s stupid. Riku’s stupid and the fight is stupid.

Mission-dates are a longstanding ninja tradition, but the trouble comes in finding the right kind of missions. He can’t take anything too long; his teachers are willing to be lenient, but leniency from them means “two-day missions _at most_.” That nixes a huge swath of missions, including most escort jobs, that would normally give them plenty of time and opportunities to talk, spend time together, and make out.

When Iruka-sensei offers her a two-or-three-person mission within a day’s run of Konoha, she figures it’ll work. She goes through the details and nothing seems off: there are some thugs camped out on a road from the coast to the capital of Fire Country, charging travelers tolls and roughing them up if they don’t pay. So far, no deaths, just some injuries, but it’ll take Konoha less time to deploy some genin than it would take the daimyo to send his own soldiers.

It’s still just a D-rank: the daimyo doesn’t care what happens to the thugs as long as they stop charging a toll on the daimyo’s road.

“Can you hold it for me?” she asks, knowing Iruka-sensei will say yes. “I need to check with my team.”

He looks like he buys that as much as he bought Naruto’s excuses for anything, but with a sigh, he agrees to hold it for her. “If you’re not back in a couple hours, I’ll have to give it to someone else,” he warns, “but I can keep it for that long.”

“Thanks! You’re the best, sensei!”

She won’t need a couple hours; Riku ought to be on his lunch break, and by now, she’s figured out that he _can_ take a break during his shift as long as it’s quick.

///

He agrees to the mission, doesn’t seem to mind the short notice, and smiles at her before taking off to let his mentor know and then to gather his things. She goes back to Iruka, formally accepts the mission, and collects her own supplies; they meet at the gates at about the same time.

The road the thugs have taken over is far enough away for body flicker to be less optional and more required; they don’t get to talk as they run, but Ino doesn’t mind. She’s used to a lack of conversation on missions, and Riku is neither snoring nor snacking, so it’s all good.

When they find the thugs and stop to strategize, that’s when things turn bad, because apparently Riku is _stupid_ and thinks you can just tell people what they’re doing is illegal and wrong and they’ll just _stop_.

Ino, who isn’t stupid, stares at Riku while he stares with determination right back. “You’re joking, right?”

“No! What were you planning to do, jump down there and beat them up?”

She shrugs. “Pretty much? Or take one of them over and beat them up. They’re not gonna listen to us if we just tell them to please pack up and leave, and we can’t let them _stay_. They’re hurting people. Doesn’t that bother you?”

He scowls. “Of course it does, but that doesn’t make it right for us to just hurt them back with no warning.”

“So you want to give the six adult men with weapons _warning_ that we’re going to beat them up? What are you, a samurai?” She winces as she says it; if he’d been raised in Konoha, he’d be pissed.

As it is, she _knows_ he gets that it’s an insult, but it doesn’t really land. All he says is, “They’re no match for us and we both know it. How are we any better than them if we go with your plan?”

That’s when the six adult men with weapons start shooting crossbows at them, and then it’s a moot point. Riku, it turns out, is fine fighting if he doesn’t start the fight.

He doesn’t like that Ino kicks the shit out of the leader, though; he grabs her shoulder, which is less aggressive than it might otherwise be; she’s armed and he, in that moment, isn’t. He shoulders his way in between her and the thug, and plants his feet in a manner that wordlessly suggests she’ll have to go through him if she wants to continue.

“What are you even doing?” she asks, confusion and irritation edging into actual anger and all of it laid bare in her tone and her wide-flung arm and, she assumes, her expression. It _feels_ like the line between her eyebrows is back. “We have a mission!”

“Which is done.” He turns to the thug—who he left at his _back_ , without a care for how vulnerable he is, the low-life could have _stabbed him_ —and says, “You and your men aren’t going to do this again, are you?”

The leader-thug frantically shakes his head. Ino sneers. “He’ll say anything right now, but as soon as we walk away…”

“We’ll leave! I swear!” The leader glances at her before turning his full attention on Riku, no doubt sensing the weaker link. “You have to believe me!”

Riku kneels in front of him. The leader isn’t even tied up; he could headbutt Riku, break his nose, and slit his throat while Riku was still reeling. He could tackle Riku to the ground and stab his heart out with little effort.

“It’s not just that you need to go away,” Riku says, in a serious tone of voice that’s still too soft for this trash. “You can’t do this again. You _hurt_ people, and that isn’t okay. It doesn’t matter where you do that, if you do it again, you’ll be in trouble. Do you get that?”

Ino has to give him that one: ramping up the steel in his voice the way he does makes for a compelling argument, especially backed as it is by subtle killing intent. He hasn’t directly threatened anything, but she can see why the leader swallows, face drained of all color, and bobs his head jerkily.

Riku stares at him for one-two-three-four seconds before nodding and saying, still serious, “You should really reconsider what you’re doing with your life. It’s never too late to change.”

At this, the leader again nods. If Riku asked him to promise to personally wipe sick kids’ noses, he would agree in this moment.

Would he _do_ it, though? Doubtful. Ino crosses her arms over her chest and lets Riku finish up, telling all the thugs to get lost and not do it again. Once they’re gone, he turns to her, and he looks tired, not angry.

“Give it a week,” she says, and his expression goes dark and tight all at once.

“Why think the worst? They could change.”

“They probably won’t.”

“And they will if you’d just beat them hard enough?” His tone goes sarcastic, one fist propped on his hip and the other hand flung out. “That’s all they needed, just a few good punches to set them straight?”

Ino doesn’t even understand what his argument is; he seems to think that she’s just wrong, but all he’s bringing are stupid ideas. “If we’d beaten them up, they would’ve been too scared to do this again.”

Riku covers his face with one hand, which takes Ino from irritated to _pissed_. Then he opens his mouth and she’s done; he doesn’t even say anything new, it’s just that it makes her even madder the second time around. “If we did that, we’d be no better than them.”

“They’re _thugs_ , Riku! We’re already better than them, we don’t have to prove it by…by being _nice_.”

He lowers his hand and stares at her. This time, he’s the one who crosses his arms over his chest. “How, exactly, are we better than them?”

She falters, more at his tone than his words. There’s no intent in him right now, but that’s the same serious tone he used with the thug leader, just an edge of steel as a warning. Then she recovers, and clenches her fists, steps right up into his space because _fuck that_.

“We’re better than them because we’re ninja of Konohagakure.” She stabs a finger right at his forehead-plate, with enough force to push his whole head back. He doesn’t rock, though, and he doesn’t flinch, just stares down at her. “We worked for this symbol, and we work for our village. We take missions to make our village stronger, not just ourselves. And we _stick together_. _That_ _’s_ what makes us better.”

He doesn’t fidget. She’s closer to him now than they’ve been in days; somehow, breathing hot and angry the same air that he’s breathing feels more intimate than any of the times they’ve kissed. She doesn’t want to kiss him, though; if he moves any closer to her, she’ll punch him, boyfriend or no.

He doesn’t move closer—he backs up, closing his eyes, shoulders slumping. “That’s it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“No.” He doesn’t need to say it—the word’s written all over him—but he does. “All of that, it doesn’t mean we’re better, it just means we’re stronger. They were working in a group, too; theirs was just smaller than ours.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore, and that’s almost worse; he sounds disappointed when he has no right to that emotion.

In fact, she’s disappointed in him. And angry, still. “That’s—I know you haven’t been in Konoha for very long, but you’re _wrong_.”

“How? Because it sounds to me like you’re just saying Konoha is the bigger bully.”

She does punch him, for that. She’s not sure if he lets her or if he’s just so surprised that he doesn’t think to block; she knows he _can_ , he’s been training long enough, and she telegraphed her move. He rocks back with the blow, one hand coming up to his cheek, and she can read the shock all over his face. He didn’t let her.

“Don’t say that about our village,” she tells him, and _she_ can do the serious-voice-with-an-edge too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t understand a single thing. You think that you can just go along and take everyone at their word, and I’m so mean for not believing them, but you understand _nothing_.”

He opens his mouth and she raises her voice. “No, shut up, I listened to you. Now you get to listen to me. You don’t _get it_. We have to do things the way we do them because otherwise everyone will think we’re weak and they’ll attack us. Just like when they took _you_.”

“I’m not saying we should be weak, I just—”

“You _are_ ,” she says, and when he keeps talking, she talks over him, “you _are_ saying we should be weak! Just because you’re too much of a coward to hit them—” and she realizes what’s come out of her mouth when he reels back, looking like that landed even harder than her punch.

Before she can figure out how to take back calling him a coward without retracting any of her points—he isn’t, really, just soft, softer than she expected, otherwise she never would have taken this mission with him to begin with—he straightens and says, “It isn’t cowardice to not want to beat people who are weaker than me, Ino. It’s called _morals_.”

And, like a dramatic asshole, he doesn’t wait for her to process that and reply; he just takes off, using body flicker, back in the direction of Konoha.

When the words register, she clenches her fists hard enough to drive crescent wedges into her palms, then flickers after him. Riku’s chakra reserves are shit and everyone knows it; she ought to be able to catch up when he’s blown through them and has to stop and just run, or leap through the tree branches, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t see him all along the way to Konoha.

The run is long enough that she’s mostly cooled off by the time she lands at the gate. She’s willing to accept his apology and offer hers in return—not for her points, but for calling him a coward. They can just agree to disagree on the rest of it; it’s probably some weird civilian mindset that he hasn’t worked through yet. She just needs to give him time and he’ll come around.

As usual, there are two chuunin at the gate—one is a woman with light brown hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, no makeup hiding the scar across her left temple, a couple fingers missing on her right hand; the other is a young man just a couple years older than Ino, with big, liquid brown eyes that probably get him anything in the world he asks for. They both look a little stunned when she walks up but focus quickly enough when she asks if Hatake Riku has come by.

He’s gone missing once on her watch, and she isn’t eager to have lost him again.

“Yeah, you just missed him,” the young man says. “He looked. Uh.”

“Upset,” the woman says. “Did something happen?”

Ino makes a face. Great. She needs to squash this now, or it’ll be all around the village that she let Riku get traumatized on a _D-rank mission_. “Nothing mission-related,” she says airily, trying to sound bored. (From their expressions, they don’t buy it. Damn. She’ll have to work on that.) “He probably just needs to cool off.”

The pair exchange a look, and then a series of expressions. The woman’s eyebrows fly up, the young man’s mouth twists with indecision before he shrugs. The woman’s nose wrinkles.

The young man says, “I need you to sign some paperwork, and then I’ll take it to the Hokage,” and it’s the standard mission paperwork, with Riku’s sections all filled out. When they said she _just_ missed him and he looked upset, they didn’t mean he ran past.

He stood here and filled out his part of the paperwork. _All_ of it, she realizes as she flips through it; there’s even a mission summary, neatly written in Riku’s still-obvious beginner’s handwriting. He’s taken the blame for alerting the thugs to their location, which may earn him a demerit if Tsunade-sama’s looking to give him one, but probably won’t.

Asuma-sensei always says it’s better to own up to your mistakes on the mission summaries and in the debriefs than to try to hide them and get caught later, because you _will_ get caught, and the consequences are worse.

He doesn’t mention that they had a spat, but that’s not the sort of thing you need to include. She can see why the chuunin might be worried, though, if half of a two-person mission comes back shaken and visibly upset, taking responsibility for alerting the enemy and then leaving as soon as the paperwork is done.

She wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got a half-finished recommendation for counseling hidden under the table. They didn’t seem to shuffle anything away as she walked up, but she wasn’t paying attention for that. (She’ll have to work on that, too.)

After a moment’s indecision, she adds a couple lines that Riku personally talked down the leader of the thugs and seemed to get through to him. Hopefully, that will keep Tsunade-sama from issuing a demerit. Done, she starts to thank the two of them, but the young man snatches the paperwork from her and disappears in a swirl of leaves while the woman holds up a hand to stall Ino.

“I’m not saying talk to _me_ about it,” she says, “but do you have _someone_ to talk to?”

Ino blinks. “About what?”

A sigh. “Whatever’s got you looking as upset as Hatake.”

Laughing it off, Ino says, “I’m not upset. It was just—a disagreement. We’ll get over it.”

“Hm. And if you don’t?”

“Huh?”

The woman looks, abruptly, tired; her shoulders slump and her mouth tightens. “Do you have anyone to talk to, besides Hatake? A teacher, a teammate, a friend—anyone?”

Of course Ino does; she has lots of people. Parents who love her. A teacher who thinks she has potential. A former teacher who adores all his students. Teammates she’s known since before she could walk.

None of that comes out of her mouth, though, because the person who springs to mind—the person she _wants_ , desperately, to talk to—she can’t. Unbidden, tears well up in her eyes; she blinks them back carefully before they can ruin her eyeliner.

“Okay,” the woman says, “okay. That’s. You’re a Yamanaka, right?”

Ino nods, tightly, trying to force back more tears that want to spill out. She doesn’t understand where they’re coming from—she isn’t the kind of girl who just cries like this, just because she had a fight with her boyfriend. She doesn’t dare say anything for fear that her voice will come out all choked up.

“Great, okay, watch the gate for me. If Sound starts invading, scream as loud as you can.” And then the woman disappears in a whirl of leaves, leaving Ino alone.

She isn’t allowed behind the desk—she tried to peak at Shikamaru’s mission scroll _once_ , Asuma-sensei caught her, there was a whole half-hour lecture on the dressing-down that she would get if she tried that again. Chuunin paperwork is for chuunin and above _only_ , and if genin try to overstep their bounds, Tsunade-sama can call them up and scold them personally, or she can delegate that to any of her department heads.

Such as the ANBU Director, or the Jounin Commander, or the head of T&I. Yeah, thanks but no thanks. It isn’t worth it.

Since she can’t go behind the desk where all that paperwork is stored, she leans against it and watches the gate, hoping that no one comes. She pulls herself together, feeling stupid for having started crying in the first place, and carefully fixes her makeup as best she can with just a compact mirror.

Thankfully, the young man gets back after she’s done but before anyone else arrives, looking surprised to see her still there and his partner gone.

“Where’d she go?” he asks, reclaiming his seat and frowning at Ino, who just shrugs in response.

His answer arrives within the minute: the woman reappears, and she has Chouji with her.

Chouji looks…upset. His face is starting to flush and his fingers are twitching, but he doesn’t have any snacks or distractions with him. “Ino,” he says, and his voice is heavy with indignation, “why didn’t you tell me you were upset?”

She starts to open her mouth to deny it, but the woman takes her by the shoulders and steers her into the village. “Nope! Not right here by the gate. Go have your heart-to-heart somewhere else, like a training ground where you can hit things, or someone’s bedroom, or wherever! Just. Not. Here.” She lets go of Ino after a couple steps, but then makes a shooing motion with her hands. She even says, “Shoo, go on. Sort it out.”

“Good luck!” the young man calls as Ino and Chouji wander into the village.

Chouji lets her stay quiet for a couple blocks before he asks, “Do I need to mess up Hatake?”

She looks at him sidelong. “I thought you liked Riku.”

Shrugging, he meets her gaze. “I do. He’s not bad, and he’s friends with Naruto. But if he upset you, I’ll mess him up.” A pause. “If he _really_ upset you, we can tell Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru is overkill for Riku; he would eat the poor boy up and spit him out before Riku even knew what was happening. But Shikamaru wouldn’t just go in swinging—he’d want to know _why_ Riku upset Ino, and he might not take her side.

He’d still mess Riku up, but he’d never let Ino forget that he thought she was wrong, and that isn’t worth it.

“Don’t, he didn’t. We just had a fight.”

Chouji relaxes. “Oh. About what?” With a frown, he adds, “I didn’t know Riku _could_ fight people. He’s always just…nice.” He says it like he means _bland_ , but of course Chouji wouldn’t insult Riku _that_ badly without cause.

“We had a disagreement.”

“Huh.”

Naruto used to get into screaming matches with half their class over the dumbest things; there’s nothing special about this disagreement, except it’s the first fight Ino’s had with her boyfriend, and she’d called him a coward. She frowns.

“Hey, Chouji?” He looks at her. “If you call someone a name and you didn’t mean it, how do you say sorry without taking back the rest of what you said?”

“Besides, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that, but I meant everything else’?”

“Yeah, besides that.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to start _another_ fight, and I do feel bad.”

“Just about that, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” He pauses, and then says, “I think better on a full stomach. How about we eat, and you tell me all of it? And then we can figure out how you can say sorry.”

She has lifelong experience telling her that Chouji will tune her out at the first scent of food, but his expression is sincere, and they’re not the same stupid kids they were last year. She decides to risk it. “Alright, deal.”

///

Ino and Chouji come up with a battle-plan over barbecue, and Ino puts it in motion the next morning. Riku, she knows, starts his mornings early; she even knows which training ground he prefers. So she goes there, basically at dawn, and shivers even through the jacket she threw on over her normal outfit.

Normal outfit, because this isn’t a date, just a conversation with her boyfriend.

She doesn’t have to wait long; there are bags under Riku’s eyes like he didn’t sleep well. His morning workout clothes are _not_ enough, in Ino’s opinion, for the temperature, but she supposes he’ll warm up quickly.

Just as soon as they’re done talking.

Not one to put things off, she launches into her apology right away; Chouji made a compelling case for bluntness.

“I’m sorry for calling you a coward,” she says, stiff and formal, with a bow; she doesn’t look up as she adds, “I didn’t really mean it, and I shouldn’t have said it.”

A beat, and then a sigh. “Okay. I accept your apology.” Then there’s a long, awkward moment when Ino rises and expects—well, she expects an apology in return, and it seems for that moment like Riku might not give it to her.

But then he says, “I’m sorry for fighting with you on the mission. I said—a lot of things I shouldn’t have.” And then he bows, too.

“I accept your apology.”

With that all out of the way, there’s still a tense, unhappy air hanging over the training ground. Ino isn’t sure how to move forward—none of her daydreams about dating Sasuke ever included _fights_ , let alone making up after one, and Chouji had been zero help in that department, having never dated, either. Riku shifts, and then moves carefully forward, like he’s waiting for a seal to go off underfoot with each step.

When he’s close enough, he opens his arms and waits.

Ino takes the offer and hugs him, which dispels most of the tension. “I don’t like fighting,” she says into his shoulder, and it’s only after she says it that she realizes: she really, really doesn’t like these kinds of messy, emotional fights. (The kind she and Sakura used to have, before—before. The kind that turned their childhood friendship into a rivalry. If they hadn’t just started repairing all that damage, if they’d managed to stay friends throughout their Academy years, would Sakura have still left without a word?)

Riku nods, murmuring a quiet “yeah, me neither” into her hair, and they keep hugging for another few breaths, until he starts to tense up again and Ino takes that as her cue to pull away. Even so, he looks a little more relaxed when she does.

“I’ll see you later?” and she hates how hesitant she sounds.

Riku doesn’t sound hesitant at all when he says, “Sure,” and his smile may be brief, but it’s sincere. She gives him one back, and then risks darting in for a quick kiss on his cheek before taking off back to her nice, warm bed.

///

The problem is that neither of them promised not to say things like that to each other again; if they had, it would’ve been a lie.

The problem _is_ , they both have strong opinions, and agreeing to disagree only works if both parties are willing to let the matter drop.

It comes up in little ways, unexpected places. The daimyo of Snow is trying to turn her throne into a mayorship that everyone in the country can vote on. It isn’t common knowledge, but Shikamaru is Konoha’s liaison with the daimyo, and as his teammate, Ino gets regular updates. (They’re not, like, _official_ teammates still, but Asuma-sensei lets her and Chouji know when unclassified intel comes in.)

Riku is in favor of this; Ino thinks it will result in anarchy and chaos. Riku thinks that the daimyo is being brave to try to give up all her responsibilities to her people. Ino thinks that Shikamaru has his work cut out for him.

( _That_ becomes a huge production, because apparently Ino’s been making little comments here and there, and Riku loses patience with it when they’re having lunch with one of his coworkers, which—embarrassing. _Super_ embarrassing, in retrospect. At the time, Ino’s thoughts were more, _of course he decided to have this argument when he has backup, he couldn_ _’t have started it when_ Chouji _was with us_ , and then that had come out of her mouth, and. Well. They did make up, but it took a lot longer than a day for them both to cool down from that one.)

Riku disappears for nearly a week, and that’s when it turns out that, sometimes, he can’t go on dates because he’s going home to visit his mom and his friends. Okay, cool. Ino would’ve liked to have known that sooner, but whatever.

A chuunin has to go with him, for some reason that he doesn’t ever share with her: also cool, fine. Good! He won’t be kidnapped if he has a chuunin looking out for him. (Maybe that’s why the chuunin is there? He could be embarrassed about it. In fact, that’s probably it. Stupid boys and their stupid egos.) Ino suggests, just idly, that she could tag along, since it’s a mission anyway.

He wrinkles his nose. “I…guess you could? You’d get bored, though.”

She blinks at him. “I’d be going with you.” She hasn’t been bored around him yet. Frustrated, angry, righteously pissed off: yes. Charmed: sometimes. Interested in seeing what he looks like without his shirt: often. Bored? Never.

“Yeah, but I’d be hanging out with Sora and Kairi all the time.” Ino has literally never heard these names before. Her confusion must show her face, because he explains, “It’d be like if…if I tagged along while you hung out with Chouji and Shikamaru. You guys have all kinds of inside jokes and things you do to spend time together, and I’d just feel like an outsider.”

“Okay,” Ino says, for lack of anything better to say, like, _you_ have _hung out with Chouji and I, is that how you felt?_ Or, _at least you know who_ my _best friends are, when this is the first I_ _’m hearing about yours_. “Sure, of course.”

(That comes up in a fight, later, when he’s dropping her off at the flower shop for her shift. It’s a quick, quiet fight, because neither of them want to make a scene and neither of them want to walk away; they wind up not speaking to each other for nearly a week afterward, and when they try to apologize, they fight _again_ , this time at top volume in the hall outside Riku’s apartment.)

The worst fights are the ones where they’re all alone and things are going great, and then one of them says something to set the other off. Well. Mostly, it’s Riku picking fights. Like when Ino’s just starting to get her hands under his shirt and makes a comment about how he doesn’t have any scars, and then he tenses up in a _very_ bad way and says, in a tone of voice that’s pretending to be funny when it really, really isn’t, “Well, people don’t really try to beat me up.”

“I think that’s normal for medic-nin,” Ino says, pulling her hands away, smiling. Unsure why he’s decided to ruin the mood out of nowhere.

One eyebrow raises a little bit, and Riku says, in that same tone, “I was gonna say it’s because I don’t beat them up, but sure.”

So then they have that fight, and afterward, they fight about who _started_ it, and Ino never does get to see him without his shirt on.

///

Chouji stops offering to “have a word with Riku” and starts just _doing_ it. Ino’s not sure whether they actually talk or if Chouji just threatens him. She does know that, whatever it is, it doesn’t work.

The fights don’t stop, and then it isn’t just Chouji who tries to do something about it.

The most frustrating part is that the relationship _isn_ _’t_ all bad. It isn’t. Riku will drop everything if there’s even the slightest hint she’s been hurt on a mission. He’s meticulous about checking in with her when she gets back from anything even vaguely dangerous.

He can be funny—like Ino and Shikamaru, he’s inclined to witty observations about people, and with Shikamaru away for so long, Ino misses that.

He’s not as perceptive as Shikamaru or Sakura ever were, but he does okay. He swings by after her shift to see her sometimes; even though they’re in the middle of a fight, he drops off a present on their one-month anniversary, along with a little card that reads _I_ _’m sorry. Forgive me? -Riku_.

Sometimes, he tells her stories from his childhood, or listens to her talk about growing up in the village. He never reminds her that Sakura’s a traitor; he never suggests there’s anything wrong with Ino for missing her best friend. When Ino shares her doubts that she’ll ever see Sakura again, Riku’s a pillar of support, reassuring her that she will, that they’re all getting stronger and, one day, they’ll use that strength to bring their friends home.

Confidence is still, always, a good look on him. When Riku says they’ll bring Sakura home, Ino believes him. Those moments make all the fights, the arguments, the anger and the tears, worth it.

///

When she stops by the hospital for the latest round of apologies, all the other genin run interference. When she tries to come to his tutoring sessions in the afternoon, it’s the librarians who stop her before she gets close. She can’t catch him during lunch, and when she gets Chouji to ask Iruka-sensei if Riku’s taking any missions, a) she finds out he isn’t, and b) Iruka-sensei tells her, through Chouji, not to get him involved in their drama. (He probably doesn’t use that word, but that’s what he _means_.)

Finally, she tries to catch him before or after his evening training with Tenten and Gai-sensei, only for _Tenten_ to tell her to back off.

“Look, I get it,” the girl says, tone trying to be kind. “Relationships are hard. But what you guys are doing? It’s not healthy.”

Ino stares at her. “What…are you even talking about?”

“Fighting all the time?” Tenten crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s pretty much every other week, right? And then it’s good for a week or two, and then there’s another fight.” Her expression turns decidedly sympathetic. “First relationships are rough. But you guys should consider whether it’s worth it, if it’s _this_ rough.”

Hands on her hips, Ino asks, “Have you talked to _Riku_ about this?”

Tenten’s lips quirk up. “Oh, no. He’s got it worse. _Gai-sensei_ is talking to him about it right now.”

Okay, Ino has to admit that sounds a lot worse than Tenten’s unwanted pity.

“Whatever you decide, _something_ needs to change,” are Tenten’s last words on the subject.

///

“Break up with Riku,” Hinata’s creepy little sister tells her, cornering Ino after her shift one afternoon. “He’s miserable, and he’s distracted during training, and you don’t even like each other that much.”

Ino glares at—seriously, this kid is like, eight. “What do you know about our relationship?”

Creepy Hyuuga turns on her creepy eyes, and that is—that is an invasion of privacy, and also _disturbing_. Before Ino can voice these thoughts, the girl rolls said eyes and turns them off. “I don’t watch you kissing. I’m tracking his progress. Which you’re getting in the way of. So stop, and break up with him, before I have to adjust my estimates.”

Then she takes off without explaining what _that_ means.

Ino plans on asking Riku what the hell is going on with _that_ , but they’re fighting at the moment, and by the time they make up, she’s mostly managed to forget it.

///

At the point where her parents start bringing him up _by name_ in conversation, Ino figures it’s gone too long. She meets Riku at the training ground he uses in the mornings, just like the first time they made up, and she breaks up with him.

Well, she says, “I think we need to be done,” and he says, “Yeah, I think you’re right,” looking relieved, not even a little bit conflicted, which, ow.

“We can still be friends?” she offers, even though, well. They don’t have much in common, now, without Sakura, do they? That’s kind of the problem.

“Sure,” he says, and the doubtful expression on his face mirrors her thoughts.

“Good.”

“Good.”

They nod to one another—no hugs, this time.

///

Most days, Ino doesn’t even notice Riku’s absence: she goes on missions, either by herself or with others, usually Chouji; she trains, working on her reflexes and observations, her reaction times and how long she can use her family jutsu. No one talks about it, and she realizes, a solid month after the last time she saw Riku, that it isn’t because they’re tiptoeing around the issue: it’s because Riku’s friendly with her cohort, but he isn’t close friends with any of them, and neither of her teammates are all that close to him.

She misses having a boyfriend, sometimes; misses his smile, misses kissing him, a little bit. She misses having someone she could go to, no matter how late it is or how busy he is, who will drop everything and tell her that she’s not an idiot for still wanting her best friend back.

Everyone else in her life still tries to let her down gently about that. Her parents have both shared stories of friends turned traitor. Asuma-sensei has done the same. Chouji trusts Ino’s word that Sakura isn’t gone forever, but he wasn’t friends with Sakura (and doesn’t have a high opinion of Sasuke), so he can’t really _reassure_ her.

A couple of times, when the loss of Sakura is particularly bad, Ino finds herself walking toward the hospital, or starting to stray into a part of town she has no reason to visit; she passes by Riku’s training ground on early mornings after tossing and turning all night. It isn’t about Riku, precisely. Part of Ino is reassured even at this distance.

If she _did_ approach him, if she asked, “Do you still think Sakura will come back?” she knows what his answer would be. That was never about _them_ ; his investment in Sakura was never because he and Ino were dating, and he won’t give up on her just because they broke up.

She doesn’t speak to Riku. Just knowing what his answer would be—knowing it _solidly_ , genuinely believing in it—is enough. When she’s older, it’ll occur to her that their whole relationship was built on that foundation, on her faith in his faith in Sakura. When she’s older, she’ll wonder if that was fair to him, to her, to all their friends who had to deal with them, to anyone but Sakura herself.

(When she’s older, she’ll decide that it _wasn’t_ fair to Sakura, who left Ino and Riku and all of Konoha, and doesn’t deserve all the faith they poured into her memory. But that’s later, and in this moment, all Ino has is her faith in Sakura, and her faith that, if Riku says they’ll bring Sakura back, it _must_ be true.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters that just sat on my computer for far, far too long, because I couldn't quite figure out what was missing but I knew that something was. (The thing that was missing was "more scenes of their relationship.")
> 
> For what it's worth, I think RikuIno in a BN context _could have_ worked...had they not tried to get together at this point in time. Sakura's absence is too raw for Ino, and Riku's working through the Ninja Morality issue. Those two situations overlapping is the primary source of a lot of the problems here. (There are other problems, but those will mostly get worked through in the other fics.) 
> 
> I'm double-posting this with a Destiny trio chapter which is I PROMISE not as rough as this one.


	10. We're growing apart but we pull it together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora, Kairi, and what they're up to between Riku's visits home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** mentions of trauma, nightmares, and Riku's hypocritical training advice; Sora and Kairi's parents don't approve of their friendship with Riku, so if you're sensitive to adult disapproval, proceed with caution, since that comes up a few times.
> 
> Title from The Fray's "Never Say Never."
> 
>  _Timeline:_ References the epilogue of _Becoming Ninja_ , otherwise takes place between that and the start of _take violent things_.

Sora’s mom used to be the cool one. Now, he and Kairi both have to hide on the play island or hang out at Tidus’s house if they don’t want to catch disapproving Adult Eyes.

Ever since Riku broke his arm, Sora’s been finding out how the people around him _really_ feel about his best friend. (Which Riku still is! Sora hasn’t been shy about that! Everyone—his parents, his classmates, _everyone_ —should know by now that Sora’s only complaint is that Riku _isn_ _’t here_.)

Kairi gets it worse, for some reason: her mom’s the mayor, so everyone feels comfortable dumping their complaints at her doorstep, and then Kairi comes home and her mother is “concerned.”

“My mom’s happy I’m getting up earlier,” Sora says, legs swinging on either side of the paopu tree. Both knees are scraped and haphazardly bandaged. Riku taught them both some medical techniques, last time he was here, but their chakra reserves are even worse than his, so they can’t _do_ anything.

Well. They can body flicker a _little_. That’s how Sora scraped his knees.

“Mine’s not.” Kairi’s in shorts and sneakers again today. She still wears skirts, sometimes, usually with shorts underneath, but they haven’t found any sandals good for running on sand yet. Her knees and shins are scraped up, too, and her elbows; right now, she’s got the box of bandages on the trunk of the tree beside her and one arm twisted around awkwardly so she can survey the damage.

Sora sits up and pulls out a bandage, unpeeling the back and holding her arm steady. “Here, lemme.”

She holds still for him as he finds the spot that’s bleeding a little and puts the band-aid on. Then she bends her arm, flexing a little to see how well it stays on.

“That’s good,” she says, and smiles at him. Sora smiles back reflexively. With Riku gone, Kairi’s spending all her time with him, and she’s a bit moodier than he ever noticed before, prone to long, somber moments of staring out into the sea.

That was always Riku’s thing, before, and Sora and Kairi would interrupt him. Usually, after a bit of teasing, they’d join him and spend some quiet time in each other’s company. Sora wasn’t exactly _bored_ , and he still isn’t, but he’s starting to think that Kairi was more than just “not bored.”

Maybe she _liked_ sitting quietly with her best friends, and now that Riku’s gone, there’s no one else to give them an excuse. Sora’s natural impulse is to break the silence with talking or swimming or something, but he reels that impulse in for her sake.

Still, Kairi’s always happy when they’re training. She likes getting better at things, and she especially likes that she’s picking up Riku’s weird chakra stuff faster than Sora. Her body flickers last for whole _seconds_.

It’s awful. If this keeps up, she’s going to win _all_ the races. Worse, she might start winning _sparring matches_. Selphie and Wakka refuse to fight with Kairi anymore, and Tidus only keeps it up because Kairi keeps asking in front of Tidus’s dad, who only encourages her.

Jecht is a big, scary, pirate-looking man. Sora _adores_ spending time with him. Kairi likes it when he comes out and shows her trick-kicks with a blitzball. Tidus likes it when his dad pays him any attention, poor guy, and keeps inviting them over because “my dad said he wanted to see your flips.”

At least Kairi’s flips suck as much as Sora’s. (Tidus’s are almost as good as _Riku_ _’s_ , and Tidus looked like it was his _birthday_ when Kairi said that in front of his dad. Kairi wasn’t trying to say something nice, Sora thinks, but she noticed Tidus’s face as much as he did, and now she makes a point to ask for tips whenever Tidus looks a little down.)

Jecht lets them do whatever they want if he’s “supervising,” and he has plenty of medical supplies for when they get hurt. He’s even come over to the play island to have a look at the obstacle course setup.

A week later, he and Riku’s mom descended on the little wooden structure and turned it into a proper hangout, with chairs and a couch, a mirror mounted to one wall, a set of drawers full of basic medical supplies and bottles of water and towels.

(Then _Selphie_ decided it needed decorations, so now there’s nets hanging down in the corners, anchors mounted on the walls, and photos thumbtacked everywhere. The first monsoon will wash it all out, but Selphie just shrugged when Sora pointed that out. “We can take more pictures,” she said, “and isn’t it nice to look at now?” And it is, so she must be onto something.)

Sora’s parents are mostly okay with Jecht, although his mom makes a face every time he gets back from Tidus’s house. It’s the same face she makes whenever he mentions Riku. Sora’s not a fan of that face.

He _is_ a fan of Kairi’s smile, though. She keeps smiling as she asks, “Race me to the dock? Winner picks what we do tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

And then they both scramble off the tree and into the water; it’s half swimming contest, half wrestling match as they trudge into the shallows and try to pull each other down and take the lead. Kairi uses her body flicker advantage to ruthless effect, splashing water into his face and then, when Sora splutters and tries to recover, knocking his feet out from under him and sending him onto his butt right as the tide comes in.

Kairi wins that one, and Sora spends the whole boat-ride back to the island spitting out sand and saltwater (and, of course, splashing water onto Kairi with his paddle, but she does the same to him, so that’s fine).

///

Riku visits about once a month. Sora and Kairi both prepare for these visits, in their own ways.

Sora keeps making or buying things for Riku. His first visit is just over a week after his birthday, so they both have presents for him then: Kairi gives him a ship in a bottle, while Sora’s gift is a black leather bracelet strung with a shark’s tooth. A _real_ one.

Riku wears it every time he comes back, along with Kairi’s necklace. Little pieces of each of them. Sora tries not to preen too obviously whenever he sees it; he tries not to be smug about how Riku isn’t constantly trying to return _his_ gift, but from the way Kairi pouts, he’s not too successful.

(She’s the one who told Riku it was a loan, not a gift. Of _course_ Riku wants to give it back. They all know how much that necklace means to her, and Riku’s a big enough dummy to not realize what it means that Kairi wants him to keep it. Sora isn’t that dumb, but after all the crap Riku’s given him over the years, he feels _zero_ need to enlighten his best friend.)

“Konoha keeps getting colder,” Riku says, kind of off-handedly on his first visit back. Like a cat, he stretches out on the beach and follows the sun. That whole visit, Sora doesn’t _once_ see him inside while the sun is out. “I couldn’t wear this stuff there,” and he gestures to his tank-top and shorts, “I would freeze to death.”

He’s probably exaggerating, but Sora doesn’t let that stop him. Riku’s barely gone an hour before Sora raids his piggy bank for munny, then begs his mom to let him take the ferry to the big city.

She looks thrilled when she tells him yes, doesn’t even question why until he gets back with three intricately embroidered blankets.

When she sees those, she says, “Oh,” very quietly, and then asks, “Who are those for?” Like she already knows the answer, but has to ask, just to be sure.

Sora frowns at her. “Riku.” He doesn’t want to fight, so he ducks quickly into his room and keeps them there, where she doesn’t have to see them.

He was able to find one with _Leviathan_ on it. Kairi makes a little strangled sound when she sees it, because she knows as well as Sora does that _Sora is winning at friendship_. Kairi’s a good sport, though, so she says, “Riku will _love_ that,” and then helps Sora roll it up and tie a big bow around it.

Since his munny mostly went to the blankets, he resorts to borrowing Selphie’s camera rather than getting one of his own. At first, he takes pictures of all the things Riku mentioned, or that he knows Riku likes. Sunrises, before Sora and Kairi keep their promises to train; sunsets from the paopu tree; a lightning storm on the sea.

He gets a picture of Riku’s mom, too; she tears up a little when he explains, awkwardly, “I don’t want him to forget any of us. I know he wasn’t always happy here, but there must be some things he misses. If he has pictures of them, he won’t forget to visit.”

“Oh, Sora, you don’t need to worry about that,” she tells him, and even presses a kiss to his forehead, hugging him. “He couldn’t forget you even if he wanted to.”

Sora squints at her. “D’you think he would? Want to forget us?” He doesn’t mean us, but he can’t bear to ask just about himself, in case the answer is yes.

Riku looks so _guilty_ sometimes, like hurting Sora is this giant monster eating him out from the inside. Kairi says it was worse before he left; that he looked like that _every day_ until his uncle came, and that was the first time she saw him smile and _mean_ it since Sora’s arm broke. Sora barely catches the looks, but maybe that isn’t because Riku feels better. Maybe Riku’s just gotten sneakier and hides his feelings better now, and he’d be secretly relieved to not have to think about Sora anymore.

How much would Sora hate that? _So. Much._ He can’t stand even the thought.

“No,” Keiko says without hesitation. “Riku never loved the Islands, but the people here? His family?” She smiles at Sora. “You and Kairi? He loves us all very much. He won’t forget. But he could probably use a few reminders.” A pause. “You might consider making a potpourri out of some of the flowers.”

“What’s that?”

Keiko explains that it’s a mix of dried plants that smells nice, and then she offers to show him how to make one if he brings her some plants. He does, and they make a project of it, drying the leaves and flowers in the oven and then making a little bag of it.

It smells nice, and Riku’s mom promises that, if it’s worn out by the time Riku gets back, she’ll help Sora make another one. Riku’s sense of smell is really good, though, so Sora isn’t worried.

He’s saving up his allowances to afford a photo album; in the meantime, he keeps the potpourri in the same drawer as all the developed photographs; if they smell a little bit like the Islands when Riku holds them, that’ll help him remember the good things even more, right?

(Sora pays attention, on Riku’s second visit and every one after that: Riku may soak up the sun, he may smile and laugh with Sora and Kairi, he may spend as much time as possible on the beach, in the ocean, or staring at the sunset, but when it’s time to leave, he looks _relieved_. His smile seems that much easier when he says goodbye, ruffling Sora’s hair; his shoulders, when he turns his back to them, are loose, relaxed.

Riku’s pulling away, growing up without them.

Kairi’s doing her best, too, although she doesn’t pile stuff on Riku. Sora’s got that angle handled. Instead, Kairi throws herself into training. If there’s anything in Konoha Riku seems to like, it’s the chakra stuff and the fighting stuff, and Kairi seems to want to prove that Riku doesn’t _need_ Konoha for that.

“One sec. Spot me?” she asks Sora, using a wooden strut on the pier to do what Riku called an “inverted row.” It’s like…a reverse push-up, with Kairi pulling herself up, her heels dug into the sand beneath and every line of her body carefully controlled.

She doesn’t _really_ need a spotter for this, but Riku said they should always spot for one another, at least until they can use medical chakra techniques. Just because Kairi is _unlikely_ to slip and crack her head on an unlucky rock doesn’t mean that Sora should wander off.

When she’s done five and her arms are shaking, Kairi lets herself drop down—no rocks under her head, Sora checked—and groans. “Ugh. Riku can do, like, _fifty_ of those.” Her arms flop to her sides. “Okay. Look. The plan hasn’t changed, right? We’re still going to find the world I’m from.”

“Which isn’t the one Riku’s on now,” Sora says. They’ve talked about the possibility, and Riku and Kairi both sound sure, but it would make things _so easy_ if Kairi’s world was just—right there.

She makes a face, turning over onto her stomach, elbows in the sand and head resting on her hands. “Definitely not. We’re going to have to find it, and I think it’d be a bad idea to go without Riku.”

Sora blinks. “Have you _thought_ about that? Going without Riku?”

Sighing, Kairi says, “Well, yeah. He seems really happy there! But I don’t think it’s good for him. Have you talked to his mom about what that place is like?” Sora has not. Sora _should_ , but by the way Kairi’s face twists, Sora doesn’t _want_ to. “Well, trust me, he’s better with us. He just doesn’t know it yet.” She grins. “All we have to do is convince him.”

“How do we do that?”

“Well, he’s trying to get better. You’ve noticed that he knows a lot more each time he comes back, right?” Sora did know that, yeah; it’d be hard to miss Riku saying, “Quiz me,” and demanding they point to various parts of the body so he could list off names of bones, muscles, organs, and other kinds of systems. “Well, if we can prove to him that he doesn’t have to go back there to get stronger, then, when we’re ready to go find other worlds, he’ll be okay coming with us.”

“And we do that by…?”

A fiercer grin. “By getting stronger ourselves, dummy.” She flips back over. “Spot me again.” And she does five more of those rows.

The plan was for all of them to leave _together_ , not Riku going off on his own. It isn’t fair, and Kairi’s right: once Sora and Kairi reach his level, surely Riku will see that. Then they can all go exploring together, with their chakra and their magic keys.

Neither of them has had the weird dream Riku described, but it’s only a matter of time. They _can_ summon the key, and they use theirs instead of the wooden swords when no one else is on the play island. Sora’s actually looks like a key, which means it’s obviously the best; Kairi’s is good too, though, with pretty flowers at the business end and the hilt colored like a wave (on one side) and the beach (one the other).

Kairi and Riku fight about whose key is prettier; they each think it’s the other person’s, and no one thinks it’s Sora’s. Riku says the keys seem kind of smart, though, so Sora refuses to break the tie and instead always chooses his own key, just in case it’s smart enough to have hurt feelings.

(Riku’s is pretty, but Kairi’s is pretty _and colorful_ , so secretly, Sora agrees with Riku on that one.)

Sometimes, late at night, Sora summons his key just to stare at it. It feels _right_ in his hand, like it resonates with something deep inside him. The few times he wakes up from nightmares, looking at the key calms him down instantly.

Ever since Riku left, he’s had more nightmares. (His mom says, _ever since that boy broke your arm_ , but Sora doesn’t think that’s the reason.) And it’s just like Riku to give him something that makes him feel better without making a big deal about it. Sora wonders if _Riku_ _’s_ key helps him with his own nightmares.

(He isn’t supposed to know about them. He and Kairi eavesdropped on a conversation Riku’s mom had with Jecht about it. Jecht asked if Riku’s traumatized and Keiko said _maybe_ , and then, when Kairi found out what that word means, she made Sora swear not to let on to Riku that they know before she would tell him. It seems to be related to whatever Kairi knows about Konoha, but she made Sora promise not to ask Riku or his mom about that, either.)

If Konoha’s traumatizing Riku, even more reason for him to go on world-traveling adventures with Sora and Kairi rather than stay there, in Sora’s opinion. Not that Sora can make that argument without breaking his promise, but. He’ll think of something, when he and Kairi do eventually get good enough to prove that Riku doesn’t need to keep going back there.

In the meantime, they train, and they wait for Riku’s visits, and when he shows up—once a month, but it isn’t always a perfect four weeks, and sometimes he looks _exhausted_ at the beginning, even though he always looks happy when it’s time to go back—Sora showers Riku in mementos and Kairi shows Riku just how far they’ve come, trying to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that a) I had never actually nailed down what Riku was teaching Sora and Kairi, and b) I hadn't written Sora's POV yet, so here we are! :)
> 
> The next update of _take violent things_ will still be **next weekend** , but I figured, the Ino chapter's been sitting on my harddrive and I really wanted to write this one, I might as well post SOMEthing this weekend. (It doesn't stop being the weekend until I go to bed. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are amazing and I adore all my readers! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. :)


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